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ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 




JOSEPH KNOWLES IN WILDERNESS GARB. PHOTOGRAPHED AT MEGAN- 
TIC ON THE DAY HE CAME OUT OF THE WOODS, OCTOBER 4, 1913 



ALONE 
IN THE WILDERNESS 

BY 

JOSEPH KNOWLES 



Illustrated from drawings on birch bark^ made by the 
author in the woods with burnt sticks from his 
fires^ together with photographs taken 
before and after his experiences 




BOSTON 
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



.Kb 



Copyright, 1913 

By Small, Maynard and Company 
(incorporated) 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 



To My Mother 



i)CI,A3G1640 

Jf-: ■ 



AN APPRECIATION 

My wannest thanks are due to people too numerous 
to mention individually, for their personal interest in 
my experiment, and in particular to my good friend 
Paul Waitt for his kindness in helping me in the prepa- 
ration of this book for publication and for his many 
valuable suggestions in regard to it. 

JOSEPH KNOWLES 

Boston, December 2, 1913 



CONTENTS 

Chapter Pace 

I An Idea and a Birthday i 

II The First Days in the Wilderness . 19 

III My First Adventure 35 

IV The Rescue of the Fawn 51 

V Trapping a Bear 65 

VI The Mental versus the Physical . . 79 

VII Wilderness Neighbors 93 

VIII Fever and the Battle of the Moose 112 

IX Animal Studies 127 

X Killing a Deer with the Hands , . 145 

XI Wilderness Adventures 159 

XII More Wilderness Adventures .... 177 

XIII The World and the Wilderness ... 193 

XIV Trapping and Woodcraft 209 

XV The Value of the Experiment ... 224 

XVI Concerning the Boy Scouts 239 

XVII Nature and Art 254 

XVIII The Inside Story of the Canadian 

Trip 269 

XIX The Future 286 



y 



V 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Joseph Knowles in wilderness garb. Photographed 
at Megantic on the day he came out of the woods, 
October, 4, 1913 Frontispiece ^- 

FACING PAGE 

Joseph Knowles as he appeared a month before 
entering the woods 4 

Preparing to enter the wilderness 12 

Breaking the last link. Entering the woods at the 
foot of Spencer Trail, August 4, 1913 20 

The doe at Lost Pond. The first sketch drawn by 
the author during his two months in the wilder- 
ness. Done on birch bark with burnt sticks from 
his fires 26" 

The author demonstrating fire-making by friction 
with crude material. Posed shortly before he 
entered the woods 44 

Rear view of one of the author's lean-tos in the Bear 
Mountain country. Found and photographed by 
outsiders after the author had left 50 

The deer and the white fawn. A sketch made in the 
woods by the author on birch bark, with burnt 
sticks from his fires 58 

Cache where the author left messages and sketches 

for the outside world 62 ^ 

Wild-cat watching deer and fawn. Drawn by the 
author in the woods on birch bark, with burnt 
sticks from his fires 70 

Dream picture of the outside world. Drawn in the 
woods by the author on birch bark, with burnt 
sticks from his fires 82 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING PAG& 

The little fawn. Drawn by the author in the woods 

on birch bark, with burnt sticks from his fires . 98 * 

Beaver at work. Drawn by the author in the woods 

on birch bark, with burnt sticks from his fires . 106 ^ 

The battle of the moose. Sketch made by the 
author in the woods on birch bark, with burnt 
sticks from his fires 120 

A birch-bark message to the outside world, written 
by the author in the woods with burnt sticks 
from his fires 140 

The author's first shoes, made of the inner lining 
bark of the cedar 150 

A glimpse of the Spencer country in Northern Maine 164 v 

Calendar (in center), birch-bark dishes and drinking 
cups, found in the woods after the author had left. 
The calendar he lost several days before he left for 
Canada, but it was found by others afterward . 196 ^' 

A sketch done by the author in the woods on a piece 

of fungus with burnt sticks from his fires ... 216 \ 

Dr. Dudley A. Sargent of Harvard examining the 
author at his ofBcc in the Hcmenway G\aiinasium, 
shortly after the author came from the wilderness 232 

Implements made in the woods by the author and 
used by him during his experiment. A sketch 
made by the author in the woods on birch bark, 
with burnt sticks from his fires 250 

The author greeting his mother at Wilton, Maine, 
after he had completed his experiment .... 260 

Game wardens escorting the author to Attean Camps 
after his return to civilization. From left to right, 
Mr. Pendelton, Mr. Comber, Mr. Durgin, Mr. 
Wilcox 276 

A portion of the crowd that greeted Joseph Knowles 
on his arrival in Boston, October 9, 1913 . . . 290 



ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 



ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

CHAPTER I 

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 

On the Saturday afternoon of October fourth, 
nineteen hundred and thirteen, just at the time 
^vhen sunshine marked the end of two days' 
heavy rain, I emerged from the Canadian for- 
est on the shores of Lake Megantic, having lived 
the life of a primitive man for two months in 
the wilderness of northern Maine. 

I was tanned to the color of an Indian. I 
had a matted beard, and long, matted hair. I 
was scratched from head to foot by briers and 
underbrush. 

Over the upper part of my body I wore the 
skin of a black bear, which I had fastened 
together in front with deerskin thongs. My 
legs were incased in crudely tanned deerskin 
chaps, with the hair inside. On my feet I 
wore moccasins of buckskin, sewed together with 
sinew. I wore no hat. On my back was a 
pack, made from woven lining bark of the 



2 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

cedar, in which I carried various implements 
from the forest. 

I had a rude bow and arrows, and a crude 
knife, made from the horn of a deer, dangled 
at my waist. 

It was thus that I entered the little French- 
Canadian town of Megantic — back to the 
civilized world. 

I received a welcome that I had not dreamed 
of, and I was very happy, for it proved to me 
at that time that the people were really in- 
terested. However, as the hours went on, 
I began to realize that they considered that I 
had done a wonderful thing. 

It is because of this impression, which seems to 
have taken hold of many people since my re- 
turn, that I will begin this narrative by saying 
that it was not wonderful. Above all else I 
want to emphasize that my living alone in the 
wilderness for two months without clothing, 
food, or implements of any kind was not a 
wonderful thing. It was an interesting thing; 
but it was not wonderful. 

Any man of fair health could do the same 
thing, provided he meant business and kept 
his head. But, to the best of my knowledge, 
no other man in the history of civilization ever 
did what I did; and for that reason the people 



AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 3 

are marveling at it. To be sure, doing a thing 
for the first time has its usual and mysterious 
side; but it is not necessarily wonderful. 

The idea of this experiment came to me about 
a year ago, while I was spending a few weeks 
at Bradford, Vermont. At the time I was 
painting pictures of outdoor life in a little log 
cabin on what is known in that locality as Sad- 
dleback Mountain. I was painting a moose, 
and, as I added a touch of color to the canvas, 
I began to wonder how many people would 
notice that particular bit of color, which, from a 
standpoint of faithful portrayal, was as impor- 
tant as the eye of the creature itself. 

From this thought my mind wandered on 
to the realization that the people of the present 
time were sadly neglecting the details of the 
great book of nature. 

And, as I thought, I forgot the picture be- 
fore me. I said to myself, "Here, I know some- 
thing about nature. I wonder if it would not 
be possible for me to do something for the 
benefit of others." 

Then I would laugh at the idea of my doing 
anything for the world! Probably all of us 
have wild dreams now and then. I am begin- 
ning to think that wild dreams are wonderful 
things to have. I have always hoped, more 



4 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

than anything else, that I might sometime do 
something which would benefit mankind, even 
in a small way. 

The idea of "nature and myself" stuck in my 
mind, and I began to wonder what I might do 
to turn the attention of the public back to 
nature. I knew that art appealed to only a 
part of the people. I couldn't do it by art 
alone; no one ever had. A new impetus was 
needed. 

I believed there was too much artificial 
life at the present day in the cities. I found 
myself comparing our present mode of living 
with the wild rugged life of the great outdoors. 
Then, all of a sudden, I wondered if the man 
of the present day could leave all his luxury 
behind him and go back into the wilderness 
and live on what nature intended him to have. 

In that thought came the birth of the idea. 

That night I went down to the hotel in Brad- 
ford and began talking it over with several of 
my friends. At first they all laughed at the 
absurdity of a man of to-day going back to 
the life of the primitive man of yesterday. 
I remember, as we sat around the fireplace, 
they asked me all kinds of questions. 

I told them that in order to make such an 
experiment interesting it would be necessary 




JOSKPH KNOWLES AS HE APPEARED A MONTH BEFORE ENTERING 

THE WOODS 



AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 5 

for a man to enter the woods entirely naked, 
without even a match or a knife, and live a 
stipulated time without the slightest communi- 
cation or aid from the outside world. 

" What would you do for fire? " one man asked 
me. 

I replied to that very quickly. 

Another wanted to know what food I would 
be able to get in the wilderness and how I would 
get it without weapons. I mentioned a dozen 
ways. 

Then the conversation became like a game. 
Every one wanted to see if he could n 't stick 
me in some way. 

That night I couldn't think of a single 
thing that would keep me from undertaking 
such an experiment. 

In the busy days which followed I promptly 
forgot all about the idea, just as nine tenths 
of all ideas are forgotten. Not until the be- 
ginning of last summer did the thought take 
hold of me again. 

From time to time my friends would jokingly 
inquire when I was going to leave them and 
become a wild man. 

Then, all of a sudden, it hit me hard. An- 
other mood seized me like the one I had felt 
in the cabin while painting the picture of 



6 ALONE IN THE WILDEHNESS 

the moose. I said — and this time I meant 
it — ''I'll try this stunt, and demonstrate to the 
people that there are marvelous things to 
be derived from life in the great outdoors. " 

When I told my friends that I really was 
going to try the experiment during the months 
of August and September they became serious 
indeed. They were not joking now, when they 
cried, "Do not think of such a thing!" They 
reminded me that it might be easy enough 
to answer all their theoretical questions satis- 
factorily; but to actually find fire and food 
and clothing would be impractical and, in- 
deed, utterly impossible. 

But my mind was fully made up. I left Brad- 
ford immediately for Boston, to make prepara- 
tions for the trip. By preparations I do not 
mean that I went back to the city to train 
for the trip. I went to Boston simply to dis- 
cuss with other friends the plans that were in 
my mind. 

First of all it was necessary for me to choose 
a location for the experiment. This was some 
task, inasmuch as I desired to enter a wilder- 
ness far away from civilization, where I would 
not be bothered by people from the outside 
world. 

Finally I decided that I would go into the 



AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 7 

forest on the fourth of August, in what is 
known in the northwest Maine country as 
the Dead River Region. 

This country is covered with heavy black 
growth timber. Directly north is Bear Moun- 
tain, below which stretches Spencer Lake. 
To the east is Little Spencer, with Heald Moun- 
tain just beyond. Horseshoe Pond and the 
Spencer Stream lie to the southward, and the 
domain is bounded on the west by King and 
Bartlett Lake. 

I selected this particular time for the ex- 
periment because I wanted it to be the most 
severe kind of a test. 

I was handicapped by civilization's habits 
and comforts: my skin was not tough; my 
muscles were not firm; and my stomach was 
used to- seasoned and well-cooked food. 

However, I still retained my knowledge of 
the woods, and it was on that alone I placed 
dependence. It is in the mind, I claim, the mind 
that has been trained to know nature, that 
the spark of complete independence is retained 
down through the ages. 

As August fourth drew near some of my clos- 
est friends literally begged me to abandon 
the idea. They warned me that I might be- 
come ill and wreck my future health, or even 



8 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

lose my life, and all that kind of talk. They 
were good to me, and I appreciated their feel- 
ings, but I knew they did not understand. 

I knew better. I was confident. 

I left Boston for Bigelow, Maine, which is 
the end of the railroad in that part of the 
country. From there I took the stage for 
eight miles to Eustis, a village of fifty inhab- 
itants, situated on the edge of the forest. 

Then came something worse than living 
two months alone in the forest — a ride for 
sixteen miles over the King and Bartlett buck- 
board trail. The terminus of this road brought 
me to the King and Bartlett Camps, where I 
stayed until I entered the wilderness. 

Directly in front of these camps is the King 
and Bartlett Lake. It was a mile across to 
the opposite shore, where, in the presence of 
professional men and sportsmen who were stop- 
ping at the camps in the vicinity, I disrobed 
and started for the wilds, leaving my clothes 
behind and taking absolutely nothing with me. 

Presently I will relate my struggles for exist- 
ence during those first few days, but first I 
want to mention one morning when I awoke 
with a flood of sunshine pouring into my lean- 
to and mark the tenth notch in my calendar 
stick. That made it August thirteenth, and 



AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 9 

it suddenly dawned on me that this was my 
birthday. Then the thought came to me that 
my mother would know it was my birthday, and 
in that thought it seemed to me as if, for the 
first time, my early life and memories mobi- 
lized and passed in review before me, while 
I sat gazing off between the trees. 

I saw the old-fashioned house in the forest 
clearing in Wilton, Maine, where I had been 
born just forty-four years ago that day. I saw 
myself as a boy, living in poverty and being 
forced to do things for myself. 

It seemed, sitting there in the sunshine, as 
if a blizzard were raging off there, among the 
trees, and through the whirl of snow I could see 
my mother coming out of the woods with a load 
of wood on her back, just as she had done 
many years ago. Never until that day did 
I realize what my mother had done for me. It 
was she who had taught me about the woods 
and the animals. 

I remembered what a hard time father had 
had after he had come home from the Civil 
War, crippled and unable to help support the 
family. 

My mother was born in the wilds of Canada, 
near the Indians, and is the most coura- 
geous person I ever met. In those days of 



10 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

privation in Wilton she alone supported the 
whole family for ten years. There were father, 
my two brothers, my sister, and I. 

In winter she would haul the wood from the 
forest to keep us warm. In summer she would 
pick berries and walk six miles to the village 
to sell them. She wove baskets, made mocca- 
sins, and took in work from the people of the 
village to make both ends meet. 

I fancied I could see her smiling face that 
birthday morning as I lay naked on the ground. 

One vivid memory came to me of the day 
when we had been snowed in for some time 
and all mother could find for us to eat was one 
solitary turkey egg. It was n't very much for 
a hungry family of six, but she was equal to 
the occasion. She took the last of some flour 
she had and made up a batter. This concoc- 
tion was all we had to eat for three days. Mother 
didn't take a mouthful during that time, al- 
ways maintaining that she wasn't hungry! 

While such thoughts made me a bit home- 
sick, as I lay there alone, I remembered that 
my mother had no use for a quitter. 

My back door led right into the woods. I 
could not go outside of the house without run- 
ning into them. I used to play among the trees, 
and when I saw a strange animal I would rush 



AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 11 

toward home to ask mother what it might 
be. She would make me describe it; and, 
when I did, she always knew what it was. 
Then she would tell me all about the life and 
habits of that animal, so that soon I knew 
all the wild creatures that haunted the wilds 
about us. 

One particular incident of that childhood past 
came to my mind. One day, while playing 
in the woods, it occurred to me that I was 
old enough to be a hunter — I was ten years 
old at the time. So I walked back to the house 
and got the old family gun out. The gun was 
longer than I was, but I managed to drag it 
into the woods with me. 

About eight feet of snow covered the ground. 
I had on my father's old slippers, which acted 
like snowshoes on the crust. Hardly had I 
lost sight of the house when I heard a noise 
above me in a tree. Looking up I saw something 
dark moving in the branches. 

My first thought — I remember it to this 
day — was to run, but I got my courage up and 
at the same time managed to lift the gun to 
my shoulder and fired. Not a sound came from 
the animal in the tree, but in a moment my 
hair stood on end to see the creature come 
backing slowly down the trunk! 



12 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

I let out a yowl, dropped the gun, tripped 
in the big slippers, and fell face downward on 
the crust. But I was up again in a flash, 
dashing away toward home, and leaving the 
slippers behind on the snow. 

When I reached the door I fell flat on my 
face and howled. Mother and father came 
rushing out to see who had been killed. 

"There 's a bear after me!" I shrieked. 

With that, my father limped down the 
steps and, giving me a little shake, cried out, 
"Don't you tell such a lie as that. The bears 
are all in their dens at this time of year!" 

Mother calmed him and helped me to my 
feet. "Now let's find out just what it was," 
she said. 

When I blurted out the part where the 
animal backed down the tree she assured me 
that it was no bear, but a hedgehog! 

They knew that hedgehogs look very much 
like bear cubs at night, so they did n 't get after 
me any further. 

I laughed out loud there alone in the forest 
that thirteenth of August as these recollec- 
tions flittered across my mind, but I quickly 
sobered again at the remembrance of my 
running away from home. I ran away to go 
to sea when I was a boy of only thirteen years. 




•Mu*" 



TKICPAKING TO ENTER THE WILDERNESS 



AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 13 

During the long winter evenings, father, who 
had seen something of life in his earlier days, 
used to tell us fascinating stories of the sea 
and the full-rigged ships that sailed across the 
ocean. Those stories got me. For six months 
I planned to go to sea; and one night, after 
father had scolded me for not working in the 
field with the other boys, I left the house quietly 
and went out into the night. I walked all the 
way to Portland. It took me two whole days. 

The first thing I saw on arriving in that 
great city was a vessel just about to sail from 
one of the wharves. 

I went the rounds of the various wharves 
asking for a job, but my size was against me 
and I was turned down everywhere. I was 
discouraged and homesick that first night in 
a big city. I had n 't had anything to eat since 
leaving home and had nowhere to sleep. 

I left the docks and started up the railroad 
tracks looking for some place to sleep. Luck 
was with me in this respect, for I soon came 
to an old barn in a field by the side of the 
railroad tracks. I crept inside and dropped 
down on the hay and fell asleep immediately. 

When I awoke the sun was shining through 
the barn door. Looking off toward Portland 
I could see the masts along the waterfront. 



14 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

I gazed off up the tracks toward Wilton. I 
was hungry and homesick, but, nevertheless, 
when once more I turned my eyes to the sea 
it was all sea again for me. So I trotted along 
toward the wharves. All that day I met 
disappointment. Not one of the captains 
would give me a job. 

It was my third day away from home and 
I had not eaten a thing. Again that night 
I went back to the shelter of the barn, but 
before I fell asleep I firmly resolved to go home 
as soon as it was daylight. 

When morning came I started on my way 
toward Wilton. I didn't feel the hunger so 
keenly now, and as I walked along it came into 
my mind that I had heard that a man could 
go nine days without eating. Already I had 
been away from home three days. It would 
take two more to reach Wilton, which would 
leave four more before I actually starved to 
death, I figured. 

However, I did not go back home that day. 
I discovered, moored to one of the wharves, a 
two-topmast schooner, which had n't been there 
the day before. ''I'll take one chance at her, 
and then, if there's nothing doing, I'll go 
home," I said to myself. 

As I approached the craft I could see mem- 



AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY .15 

bers of the crew unloading merchandise. Close 
by, on a keg of salt mackerel, sat a gray- 
whiskered old man, who occasionally shouted 
something to the busy men about him. 

''He's the feller," I reasoned. 

''It's a great day, ain't it!" I greeted, com- 
ing nearer. 

"What of it!" was his curt reply. 

This unexpected answer didn't phase me. 
I had too much at stake. 

"Oh, nothing much," I continued. "I 
just had to say something." 

"Why did you have to say something?" 
he demanded, looking steadily at me. 

" 'Cause I'm looking for a job," I put in 
quickly. 

"Huh?" grunted the captain, for it was in 
truth he. " What can you do? " 

I had n't the least idea. But even that day 
in the wilderness, looking back after all those 
years, I seemed to see the steering wheel of 
that vessel. 

"I can steer a ship," I answered, believ- 
ing for the moment that I really could. 

"Did you ever go to sea before?" 

"No, sir." 

"Well, how do you know you can steer a 
ship then?" he demanded. 



16 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Just while I was hopelessly floundering around 
for a good reason, the cook came out of the 
cabin with a bucket in her hand and asked 
the captain to send someone for fresh water at 
the hydrant at the head of the wharf. I was 
the nearest to him, so he sent me for the water 
and told me I could make the trip with him. 

At last I was going to sea! I was a real 
sailor! And, at least, I would get something 
to eat! 

I made a few trips on the coast on that 
schooner. One day the jib blew away in a 
squall. The mate called me a "land lubber," 
and other choice names, which aren't fit to 
be printed, and the upshot of it was that I 
quit the ship. I landed at Portland with two 
ten-dollar bills in my pocket, the first money 
I had ever had in my life, and started at once 
for home. 

First I bought the whole family presents. 

What a joyful home-coming it was! 

Father was down to the village when I ar- 
rived. He came in later, while I was relating 
my adventures to my mother. When he caught 
sight of me — the runaway son — he stood 
still a moment, looking at me. Then, without 
a word, he went into the next room. That 
hurt more than any licking he had ever given me. 



AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 17 

That night, two hours after entering the 
house, I crept down stairs and ran away again, 
just as I had done the year before. 

This time I was gone for a number of years. 

At first I went back to the coasters. Then 
I shipped aboard the deep water ships. I tra- 
veled nearly all over the world. Later I entered 
the United States Navy, where I served enlist- 
ments for a number of years. After that 
I decided I would like to try sailing on the 
fresh-water lakes. So I left the coast and 
sailed on the Great Lakes for another twelve 
months. 

It was while I was in that country that I 
became acquainted with tribes of Sioux and 
Chippcwah Indians. They were scattered all 
along the west coast of Michigan. I gave 
up the sailing and went among them. That 
year I went back into the mountains and 
hunted and trapped with them. Of course, 
I picked up valuable knowledge about the 
woods under these conditions. 

It was remarkable to me, as I reflected there 
in the forest on my forty-fourth birthday, how 
the smallest details of my past life came back 
to memory. It seemed as if in those first 
few days the cobwebs were wiped away from 
my brain, revealing thoughts which were com- 



18 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

pletely forgotten. It seemed as if I had never 
thought clearly before. I confess I was just 
a trifle homesick. 

I reached out and ripped a piece of fungus 
from a tree close by, and began sketching on 
its smooth white surface a crude picture of 
my lean-to, as I had often done for hunters 
from the city, who told me I should make the 
most of such a talent. 

That was the way I started my art work. 
I just drew the things I saw around me in the 
forest. I never went to an art school, but I 
studied the works of successful artists, and won 
what success has been mine through my own 
efforts. 

The fascination of the panorama of the 
past that unfolded itself before me that birth- 
day morning made me quite forget to eat. 
The sun, peeking down through the trees 
from high overhead, told me that hours had 
gone by. 

I rose and started for the burnt lands after 
berries. 



CHAPTER II 

THE FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 

To go back to the beginning of my life 
in the wilderness, heavy skies and a steady 
drizzle of rain greeted me on the morning of 
August fourth, when I awoke in the King 
and Bartlett Camps. However, the weather 
did n't bother me. 

The sportsmen and professional men who were 
interested in my departure joked with me, 
and laughingly said that they would see me 
back again that night. Everyone was in the 
best of spirits. 

Shortly after nine o'clock we all left the 
camps for the opposite side of King and Bart- 
lett Lake. 

The drizzle had increased to a steady down- 
pour, and the brown suit of clothes which I 
wore became wet through. 

The time for my entering the forest was 
about ten o'clock. 

The boats landed at the foot of what is 
known as the Spencer Trail, which rises straight 

19 



20 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

up the side of Bear Mountain and winds 
its way up over the crest and down the other 
side for five miles through the woods to Spencer 
Lake. 

"Here's your last cigarette," cried someone, 
offering me the smoke as I began to take off 
my clothes. 

I took it and lit it, and then went on undress- 
ing. Presently I stood naked. 

I took two or three final puffs of the cigarette, 
tossed it to the ground, and began to shake 
hands with everyone. 

My body was already glistening with the 
rain but it did n't bother me any. 

I waved my hand as a last farewell to human 
companionship for two months, and started 
up the trail. At the top of the incline, where, 
in another moment, I would be out of sight 
among the trees, I paused and waved once 
more to the waiting crowd below. Then I 
struck out straight along the trail. 

I had left civilization! 

I don't remember a great deal of that five- 
mile trip. My mind was filled with all kinds 
of thoughts. I kept saying to myself, "I shall 
keep on going straight ahead into the woods, 
where I shall not see anyone or talk with any- 
one for two months," Then the realization 



FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 21 

would come over me that what food and com- 
fort I obtained would have to come through 
my own resourcefulness. 

By now I had reached the ridge of Bear Moun- 
tain and swung along down the other side, 
where I easily recognized the lay of the land, 
though I had not seen it for ten years. Pres- 
ently I saw the surface of Spencer Lake 
through the trees below me. 

In order to avoid the Twin Camps I swung 
off the trail to the right, crossing over dead- 
falls and plunging through the tangled under- 
brush. 

When I reached Spencer Lake I looked across 
that sheet of water, with its background of 
endless trees that rose up, up, up, and then to 
the sky line, way beyond, and saw a rugged 
picture. The sweep of rain hung like a filmy 
curtain between me and the distant mountain 
forest, softening the lights and shadows of 
everything. 

For fully fifteen minutes I stood there in the 
rain and studied that wild stretch of nature. 
Three ducks flew around in a circle over the 
water. 

I wasn't cold even then. Unconsciously 
I began to walk slowly along the Spencer shore, 
wondering just what I should do first. 



22 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

To save my life I couldn't seem to make 
any connected plans. So I wandered aimlessly 
along for some time, finally reaching a point 
some distance below the Kempshall Camp. 

Then I faced the heavy growth of woods and 
plunged in. I had no particular destination; 
I was just going anywhere. 

Perhaps I had gone two miles when I found 
myself in a spruce thicket. By now the after- 
noon was well along, and I had n 't done a 
thing but wander about! 

I had thought about building a fire, but saw 
there was little chance with everything dripping 
wet about me. However, I decided to make a 
try. First I hunted for a good piece of pine 
root to be used as a base; then a stick for a 
spindle. Next I ripped off a piece of bark of 
the cedar. I tore the inner bark into small 
strips, which I braided into a kind of rope. 
This I looped about the spindle, tying the ends 
to a bow-stick I had snapped off a dead tree. 

I had to get my fire through friction, caused 
by whirling the spindle on the pine base by 
sawing back and forth with my crude fire-bow. 

In vain I hunted in every crevice and log 
for dry punk. Everything was soaked through. 
I then saw the absolute foolishness of it all, 
and straightway gave up the task. 



FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 23 

It was now dark, and here I was in this 
spruce thicket, without food or fire, naked, and 
miles from a camp. 

I made up my mind that I would stay out 
one night anyway, even if I went back and 
called the stunt off early in the morning. 

I found a place where I could walk back and 
forth a bit to keep warm, so I started in. 
With the darkness the air grew colder. The 
rain continued, unabated. I ran back and 
forth until I was tired and breathing heavily. 
Then I would stop for a moment to rest, 
sitting down on the wet ground with my back 
against a tree. Of course, I could n't sit there 
very long without catching cold, so after a 
little I would get up and begin walking 
again. 

I must have run miles that night, in that 
little space in the spruce thicket. I would 
stop to rest, only to start walking again. 

It must have been early the next morning, 
about three o'clock, I guess, when it began to 
get very cold. The rain had stopped. I in- 
creased my pace back and forth. Thus run- 
ning and resting I spent the first night alone in 
the wilderness. 

Daylight came very slowly, but with it I 
was on the move. 



24 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Not a thought had I given to food since I 
entered the forest. I was n 't hungry. 

I struck a natural game trail and followed it 
along, not knowing where I was going. 

Presently it began to rain again, and, while 
I got used to it later, I did not welcome it just 
then. My thoughts were the same jumbled 
thoughts of the day before. 

As I roamed along, my resolve to leave 
the forest and call the experiment off did 
not figure particularly in the morning's 
mood. I somehow didn't care where I was 
going. And I did not feel the cold to any great 
degree. 

At last I reached Lost Pond. I had never 
seen it before, although years ago I had been 
well acquainted with the country thereabouts, 
and knew this must be it. It looked very 
small to me, and for a moment I wondered 
if it really were Lost Pond. 

Out in the open it was still raining hard. 
As my eyes wandered across the pond it seemed 
good to see distance instead of just trees. I 
wanted to put my hands in my pockets to en- 
joy the picture better, but I didn't have any 
pockets to put them in. Nothing in that view 
escaped me that day. I saw the sky, the 
trees, and the opposite shore. 



FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 25 

It helped break the monotony of that dark 
rainy day. 

I never knew what I went to that pond for, 
but I think there is something that draws a 
man or an animal to a place of relief in the 
woods — any opening, any sheet of water, or 
spring, or anything that is different from the 
miles and miles of trees which become so 
tiresome. 

People have many different ideas of the defi- 
nition of the word monotony. True monot- 
ony means a tree and a tree and a tree, and 
then some more of the same kind of trees over 
and over again. It means the same lay of the 
land over and over again. 

In the midst of this monotony of trees, some- 
times the game trail will suddenly lure you into 
an opening, as, unconsciously, I had been 
carried to Lost Pond this particular morning. 

In case there is no clearing or sheet of water 
in the country round about, the most natural 
thing is to climb to the highest peak you can 
find, where the great open sweep above the 
timber offers a different kind of a picture. 

Scarcely had my eyes traveled to the op- 
posite shore when I noticed a beaver dam 
a little to the left of me. Signs of activity 
were there and I saw fresh cuttings. 



26 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

The rain seemed to be increasing. I saw 
a deer on the opposite shore and I thought 
how comfortable she looked. Then I thought 
how easy it would be to make plans to catch 
that deer, or any other deer that came down 
to the water. I envied her her hide that morn- 
ing, I can tell you! 

Then there came into my mind my promise 
to live within the game laws of the State of 
Maine. It made me sore to remember 
how the Fish and Game Commission had re- 
fused me a permit to kill the game I actually 
needed. They had a perfect right to grant 
that permit, according to law; but they didn't 
see fit to. 

I grew revengeful at this thought, because, 
under the circumstances, my lot would be ever 
so much harder than that of the primitive man 
of old. The first men of the forest were not 
handicapped by laws from an outside civilized 
world! If the game authorities had given me 
that permit my life would have been more com- 
fortable during those first few days in the 
wilderness. 

I did n't wish to harm that old doe across the 
lake, but, at the same time, I realized that her 
skin would have been a godsend to me just 
then. 




S o 



Ph Pi 

W 

W Q 



^ 5 w 

S W S 

H O M 

< S ^ 



FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 27 

As it was, I waved my hand toward her, 
shouting, ''Go ahead, old girl! I'll get along 
some way. " Then I turned my steps toward 
the beaver dam, and left the old doe standing 
there alone. 

There were many deer tracks in the 
runways. 

The rest of this day was uneventful. I 
hadn't got my balance yet. My thoughts 
were still confused. As yet I did not feel 
any hunger, so made no efforts to get food, 
though I had n 't eaten anything since break- 
fast at the King and Bartlett Camps just before 
I entered the forest. 

I simply wandered around, not caring where 
I went. Because of the cold and rain I started 
back early along the trail for the spruce thicket, 
where I had spent the night before. 

Another attempt at making a fire proved 
unsuccessful. 

The second night was a repetition of the 
first, spent in alternately walking back and 
forth and resting. I didn't suffer terribly, 
but it was not altogether comfortable out 
there without any clothes. 

With the morning came the sunshine. As I 
//' came out into the clearing, the sun felt good 
on my body. 



28 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

I hunted round till I found a partly shaded 
spot, in among the trees. I needed sleep 
more than anything else just then, so I lay 
down, and in the warmth of the morning sun 
forgot everything for a couple of hours. 

When I awoke I felt the pangs of hunger 
for the first time. 

I crossed over the beaver dam, and followed 
down the outlet of the pond, keeping my eyes 
open for shallow pools, where, perhaps, I 
might land some trout. 

I was headed for the burnt lands in search 
of my first food. I knew that I should be able 
to find berries there in abundance. 

The burnt lands are those parts of the forest 
which have been swept by fire. The land is 
open and full of charred tree trunks, here and 
there. Blueberries can always be found in 
such land. 

On I went until I reached Little Spencer, 
on the other side of which lay the burnt 
lands. 

I came upon bush after bush loaded with 
blueberries and raspberries. I gathered a 
handful and ate them. 

After I had eaten my fill, I headed for the 
thicker woods, where, with the help of sharp 
stones, I peeled some birchbark from the 



FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 29 

trees. Folding the bark into cornucopias, 
and pinning the overlaps with splint sticks, 
I soon had two berry-dishes. These I took 
back to the berry-patch and filled to over- 
flowing, storing away the food for future 
need. 

Once more I headed toward Little Spencer, 
but this time I followed the outlet, earnestly 
hoping to land a trout. At last I came to a 
shallow pool, in which I managed to round 
up a couple of trout. 

The fish had come up stream seeking the 
cooler waters of the springhole, and I simply 
shut the hole in from the stream by lower- 
ing the water. With a little patience I dis- 
patched the trout with a stick. 

I was still pretty much in the open of the 
burnt lands, and the sun was already begin- 
ning to burn my tender , back and shoulders. 
I knew that I must tan my body gradually, 
or else I would suffer a great deal of pain 
and inconvenience. So I left the open for 
the shaded timberland, where I lay down and 
soon fell fast asleep. When I awoke it was 
late in the afternoon. 

My first thought was of a fire and shelter 
for the night. A short distance away from 
where I had slept I found a spring. Here 



30 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

was the place for a camp, so I started in at 
once making plans for my first home. 

To begin with, I commenced to build some 
kind of a shelter, which would keep the wind 
away from me more or less. 

I hunted around for some crotch sticks, and, 
after finding two, I drove them into the ground 
wide apart. Next I placed a stick across 
the crotches and had my framework. Two 
more dead sticks were placed slanting to 
the ground, at either end, and then I began 
to gather quantities of dry sticks, with which 
I made a crude, slanting roof. 

Over these sticks I placed fir boughs and 
bark. More fir boughs were stacked up against 
the sides, which were also banked with moss 
to keep the wind from whistling through. The 
front of this shelter was open. 

When the rude structure was finished, it was 
nearly dark. 

During the day, the wind had dried things 
quite a bit, so I began at once to try to make 
a fire that would burn. This time I found 
some punk in a crevice of a tree, which was 
dry. 

I began sawing back and forth for dear 
life, and soon my efforts were rewarded by a 
thread of smoke which rose from under my 



FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 31 

spindle. As soon as I thought the spark was 
there, I snatched up the base and blew it to- 
ward the punk which I held in my other hand. 
Presently I saw a spark on the punk and 
nursed it carefully. Then, with a little puff, 
it burst into flame! This I applied to a little 
heap of other bark and punk and sticks, which 
I had all ready, and soon I had my fire. It 
was merry — that fire — just like a compan- 
ion. 

It was time to eat, so I ate most of the 
berries I had brought in my cornucopias from 
the burnt lands. 

This simple meal was ample for me that 
night, especially with the prospect of fresh 
roast fish in the morning. 

Just before settling down for the night, 
I took the two trout I had caught and put 
them in the spring to keep them cool. It 
was the only refrigerator I had. 

Then I went back and made up my bed. 
A man who doesn't know the woods would 
be surprised to learn what a really comfort- 
able bed can be made by first putting down 
fir boughs and then covering them with dry 
leaves. 

What a great comfort that fire was! I 
heaped it high with wood when I first lay down 



32 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

to rest, and, with an occasional replenishing, 
managed to pass a comparatively comfort- 
able night. 

Even in the morning the coals remained, 
and I soon had it burning again. 

It was another fair day. 

"Now for a breakfast of trout," I said, 
as I headed for the spring down the slope 
about fifty feet away. But, when I got there, 
what was my consternation to find that the 
fish were gone! Fresh mink tracks all about 
told their own story. I had been robbed by 
someone else who was hungry! 

Anyway, the spring was left, so I lay down 
and took a drink. Then I went back to my 
lean-to and ate the few remaining berries I had 
tucked away. 

I decided to explore some more, so, after 
banking my fire, I started off in the direction 
of the burnt lands again. On the bank of 
the stream I found a few roots which were 
nourishing. They tasted something like cel- 
ery, but I didn't like them. I went on to 
the burnt lands and finished up my breakfast 
with another course of blueberries. 

There was one thing that had to be at- 
tended to at once, and that was to make some 
sort of covering for my legs. They were horribly 



FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 33 

scratched and caused me a great deal of irri- 
tation. 

Some witchgrass growing by the stream 
gave me an idea. I pulled up several handfuls, 
which I bound on to my legs, tying it around 
with pieces of the toughest grass. 

I mourned the trout I had lost for break- 
fast and determined to catch another, which 
shouldn't get away from me. I hunted 
everywhere for a shallow pool, like the one 
I had found the day before, but met with 
no success. 

Just as I was despairing about finding a 
fish in that vicinity, I heard a splash in the 
water up stream. An otter was swimming 
for the shore, and in its mouth was a big trout! 

I shouted at the top of my voice, at the same 
time hurling a stone into the water. I 
laughed as I saw the trout come floating down 
the stream, belly up. The otter had dis- 
appeared. 

By robbing the otter I got square with 
the mink. I reached camp and roasted the 
trout. I can't say I enjoyed that meal. It 
tasted flat without salti.j However, I felt the 
nourishment of it later. I needed it after my 
simple berry diet. 

After the repast, I sat looking into the fire 



34 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

and thinking. I finally decided to abandon 
the camp and strike out for a better section. 

The idea of going out of the forest had left 
me. I began to go about things as if I were a 
part of the forest itself. 

On first consideration, it might seem as 
though I had wasted a lot of energy in build- 
ing my lean-to for a single night. But I really 
hadn't, for during my wanderings I might 
find myself in that region again, and I would 
know beforehand where I could find shelter. 
It would be a kind of headquarters for that 
particular section of the country. I had 
several such before my two months were 
up. 

Stamping out the smouldering embers, and 
taking my fire apparatus with me, I struck 
oil in the direction of Big Spencer Stream. 



CHAPTER III 

MY FIRST ADVENTURE 

So far my life in the wilderness had 
been very commonplace. I felt in the best 
of health. I had had no adventures, though 
unknown adventures were in store for me and 
they were to come quickly. 

One late afternoon, some time after my 
arrival at Big Spencer Stream, I returned 
to the burnt lands to gather berries. On the 
way I stood on a slight elevation, looking 
down into a small gully. From somewhere 
afar came the sound of a rifle shot, which 
brought back to me the thought of human 
beings; but I did not dwell upon it. 

I worked overtime picking berries, and 
soon gathered two birchbark dishes full. 

The light was beginning to fade, so I made 
up my mind it was time to start for my camp, 
which was some distance away. Just as I 
was stepping over a charred, fallen trunk, 
I heard a crash in the bushes behind me. 

Whirling sharply about, I saw, down in 

35 



36 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

the gully below, a deer come tearing through 
the brush with two bears at her heels. The 
deer was evidently wounded, as she would 
stagger and fall, then get to her feet again and 
dash along. 

The two bears looked like galloping balls 
of fur. They would almost reach the deer 
when she would fall ; but she always man- 
aged to scramble to her feet in time to keep 
just out of their reach. 

Instinctively I wanted to go to the aid of 
the deer, but better reasoning held me back. 
Even in the presence of death I experienced a 
bit of joy, for I knew the bears would eventu- 
ally get the deer. 

The battle for life had carried the deer 
and her pursuers well out into the burnt lands. 
I stood close by, watching every move. I 
could see that the deer was weakening. Sud- 
denly one of the black fur bodies hurled 
itself on to the frail creature. A bear never 
seemed so powerful to me before! 

Here I made my first mistake. I had been 
so glad that I might be able to get a deer- 
skin without breaking the game laws of the 
State, that I did not stop to figure that by 
waiting I might also get a bearskin. I did n't 
take into consideration that when once the 



MY FIRST ADVENTURE 37 

deer was overcome, the two bears would fight 
it out between themselves as to the possession. 
I should have reasoned that they would fight, 
as they did. 

Scarcely had the deer ceased her pitiful 
struggles, when one of the bears flew at the 
other. Had they been allowed to continue, 
one would surely have killed the other in that 
mixup. But I was so excited I ran down into 
the gully, across the open space, toward the 
scene of battle. The bears saw me at once, 
for in less than a second they were streaking 
for the cover of the woods, leaving their prey 
behind. 

As I leaned over the deer, I found that the 
skin had hardly been torn. High up on one 
shoulder blood was streaming from a wound 
made by a bullet. "Probably that gun shot 
I heard about half an hour ago," I said to 
myself. No doubt some woodsman in need 
of food had made an attempt to get her, even 
though it was August, when deer are protected 
by law. 

I knew I wouldn't have time to skin the 
creature that night through the slow rock- 
tearing process, so I dragged the body for 
some distance into the woods where I buried 
it with earth, branches, leaves, and stones. 



.S8 ALONE TN THE WILDERNESS 

Then I went back over the ground where I 
had just dragged the animal, and covered 
up tlic tracks with leaves. The trail was com- 
l)lctc]y oIjI iterated, or at least I thought it 
was, so that the bears would not find it. 

It was (juite dark when I started for my 
lean-to, resolved to come back and skin the 
deer in the morning. 

As soon as the sun was up I made for the 
place where I had hidden my deer. I had 
one regret, that I had not made the most 
of that situation the night before and ob- 
tained a bearskin as well. 

But soon I had something else to think 
about, for, ui)()n arriving at the spot where 
I had interred the carcass, 1 found leaves, 
branches, rocks, earth everything scattered 
al)out! The bears had been there before me. 
I had h)sl even the deerskin! 

1 wanted that deerskin badly. I needed it. 
However, it was gone, and that's all there was 
to it. 

I had counted a whole lot on the deer 
meat also, for my food thus far had not been 
very hearty, though it had answered after a 
fashion. 

In one of the marshes I had hit a couple 
of frogs over tlie head, and tried eating the 



MY FIRST ADVRNrURK 30 

hind legs. But J could n't }ro the taste of 
these luxuries, and never tricnl tlieni aj^ain. 

In the clearings and along llic stri^anis I 
found })lenty of rasi)l)erries and hkiel^errics. 
(letting tired of these, I ate some l)unchber- 
ries, whicli grow in scarlet chistiM-s; also check- 
erl)erries and berrii-s of the mountain ash. 
Almost everywhere in the deep woods skunk- 
berries were to be found. T ate a lot of these, 
which contain mu( h nutriment. ThescM)erries 
are black and fuzzy, and i)robably receive their 
name because they reseml)le the fur of the 
skunk. They grow on high l)ushes. 1 chewed 
a great deal of s])ruce gum. 

But, as I said l)ef()r(', such food was not 
very substantial. It was enough to get along 
on for awhile, but 1 needed something more. 
Wliile that first trout had not been ])articu- 
larly palatable without salt, I realized that 
it had given me strength, and made uj) my mind 
that I must get some more. 

The loss of that deer meat was a great loss 
indeed. 

Once again T headed for the Big Spencer 
Stream country. T knc;w or thought I knew, 
where I could hnd some good spring holes, in 
which I hoped to catch some trout. After 
a long time my search was rewarded. I 



40 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

found a spring hole, which was alive with 
them. 

I went down stream a little way, where, 
with rocks, I made a small pool. Then I 
went back to the big pool and began to drive 
the trout into the small pool. Down they went 
into my trap! All I had to do was to wade in 
and just pick them up with my hands. I 
gathered up as many as I thought I needed 
and carried them to a rough lean-to — one 
which I had thrown up the night I came 
to this region from the Lost Pond district. 

Doubtless people who have always fished 
with a line and hook can scarcely conceive 
catching fish with the bare hands. But it 
is the simplest thing in the world. In some 
instances, during my life in the forest, I could 
have obtained barrels of fish in this manner, 
had I seen fit. 

I remember one day when I crossed the 
beaver dam, previously mentioned. I wanted 
some fish, so I promptly let the water out 
of the dam. In the shallow pools were stranded 
quantities of fish. I did this out of necessity, 
and, as soon as I had all I needed, I immediately 
dammed up the broken places so that the fish 
left behind would not die. 

Of course many of the fish I caught in the Big 



MY FIRST ADVENTURE 41 

Spencer Stream country would not have kept 
very long without some sort of preparation 
on my part. To cure the fish, I selected sev- 
eral flat rocks and built a smoke hole with 
them, in which I hung the fish on sticks to 
smoke. I let them smoke for several hours, 
after which they would keep for days. 

When I had an abundance of raspberries 
I would spread them out on pieces of birch- 
bark to dry and shrivel up. In this way 
I preserved many berries. 

By this time I was satisfied in my mind that 
I would not suffer physically from the experi- 
ment. I had fire and shelter and was getting 
enough to eat. Already I began to feel that 
I would never again think of such a thing as 
"calling it off," but that I should be able to 
stick it out the full time. Perhaps it was 
because I had the companionship of a fire. 

Fire was my greatest asset in the woods, 
by far. With a fire you have got about every- 
thing. It would be difficult — in fact, I do 
not believe a man could get along for any 
length of time in the wilderness without it. 
First of all, it aids you in a hundred ways. 
Next, it is a comfort — a wonderful comfort. 

When I made my fire bigger, I would say 
to myself, ''Here, I am making room for 



42 



ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 




another fellow." Then for hours I would sit 
in front of it, thinking of my friends and of the 
outside world. From time to time I would 
catch myself talking out loud to myself. The 
mere fact that I felt that imaginary people 
were there made it so much easier to be alone. 

As a comfort-producer, fire is second to 
nothing in the world. As I look back on it now 
i> seems as if it did about everything for me. 

Ofttimes I would run across a log, which was 
too heavy for me to carry. I would get busy 
making a fire beneath it and burn it in two. 
Then, if the pieces were still too large, I would 
burn them in two again, and so on, until I had 
chunks light enough to carry. 

I hadn't been in the forest long before 
the vision of a bow and arrow danced before 
me. I realized that it would of course require 
a lot of patience to make such a weapon; 
but I knew I could do it. Until I could ob- 
tain some rawhide I knew I should have to 
use the twisted lining of the inner bark of 
the cedar for a string. But, such as it was, 
it would be vastly better than nothing. 

Here the fire came to my aid again. In the 
midst of a tangle created by the uprooting of a 
maple tree which as it fell had crashed into a 
hornbeam, carrying it with it, I found a horn- 



MY FIRST ADVENTURE 43 

beam sliver which I knew was the best kind of 
wood with which to make my bow. Such a 
stick in the rough hasn't the slightest re- 
semblance to a bow. 

Then I built a fire and let the stick burn for 
awhile, turning it now and then to get an even 
char. With a sharp rock I would then begin 
to scrape off the char, after which process 
the stick would be returned to the fire until a 
new char had burned. I scraped and charred 
that stick until I had reduced it to one inch 
in thickness. And all the while the fire had 
been seasoning it nicely for me. With the 
rocks I smoothed and rounded it perfectly. 
When it was done I had a formidable weapon, 
which aided me greatly in after days. 

It would be impossible for me to enu- 
merate the things fire will do for a man, if he 
will only let it and steer it. It will cook his 
food, as it cooked mine. If there are vicious 
animals in the forest, it will keep them away. 
All a man would have to do, if attacked, would 
be to throw a burning brand into the bushes, 
and the creature would run quickly away. 
It might be starving, but it would not come^ 
near the fire. 

Again, fire made several clearings for me, 
when I wanted to get rid of the tangle and 



44 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

underbrush. It smoked my fish; and it even 
broke my rocks. Many times I cooked my food 
on heated rocks, which were perfectly clean 
and very handy. 

Carefulness regarding fire in the woods is a 
most vital point. I have the greatest admira- 
tion for the splendid forest conservation move- 
ment, which has meant such great protection 
to the natural world. 

I deplore the inexcusable carelessness of 
some men who build fires at random in the 
woods, thereby destroying valuable timber. 
If these offenders would only stop to con- 
sider what a tree would do for them they would 
be far more careful with their lires. 

The tree shelters man. It gives him bark 
and wood for utensils. It offers warmth and 
even food. Just as fire is a blessing, so are 
the trees of the forest. However, the bless- 
ing of fire can be turned into a curse very 
quickly through thoughtlessness and deliber- 
ate neglect. It is a good servant but a bad 
master. 

When I go over in my mind that eventful 
life in the wilderness, I suppose I could have 
pulled through some way without the aid of 
fire; but I know this, that if I had been 
obliged to get along without it, I would have 




TUi: AUTHOR Dh.MONSrKMTNC. HKK-MAKINC IW FUUliUN Willi 
CRUDE MATKKIAL. POSED SHORTLY KEFORE HK ENTERED THE WOODS 



MY FIRST ADVENTURE 45 

come back nothing but skin and bones. I 
would actually have suffered. People who look 
at fire with fear do not realize what it really 
means. It is one of mankind's greatest bless- 
ings. 

Altogether, during the two months, I had, 
perhaps, six or seven fires which I was forced 
to build for protection. I would bank them and 
keep them going for days at a time.-- One fire 
I kept for ten days by covering it over with 
burnt ashes and dirt whenever I left it. Some- 
times I would go away all day and stay over 
night, and, when I returned to the camp, I 
would find a few glowing coals, with which 
I soon built a big healthy fire. 

During the last days of my first week, I 
spent most my of time in the Lost Pond and 
Big Spencer Stream country. I had made no 
attempt to get any skins since losing the 
deer, but had busied myself in many dif- 
ferent ways. 

My witchgrass leg-shields were not very 
durable, so I set about replacing them with 
something better. With sharp rocks I started 
the bark on some cedar trees, and gathered a 
large supply, peeling off strips right up the 
tree, some of which were as long as twenty 
feet. 



46 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

These strips I would take back to my lean-to 
in order to separate the inner bark from the 
outer covering. Then I would tear the inner 
bark into smaller strips. 

The early training which my mother had 
given me in basketry came in very handy in 
those days. I began to weave long leggings 
out of strips about a quarter of an inch wide. 
After a time I had a pair which covered 
my legs like trowsers, fastening to a belt of 
the same material. I could go anywhere 
with this protection, which served me well, 
for a time. It was all right while it was per- 
fectly dry; but when it became wet it tore 
and wore out quickly. 

Getting more ambitious, I took wider and 
heavier strips of bark and wove a pack-basket 
large enough to carry my fire-kindler and other 
things I might need. 

In the meantime, I had not forgotten my 
art work or my diary. At various times I 
got birch bark and tucked it away in which- 
ever lean-to I happened to be nearest. Whit- 
tling down bits of charcoal for my pencils, I 
wrote down the events of the day by the 
flare of the firelight at night. 

I decided to go to Lost Pond early in the 
morning and sketch a bit of the country where 



MY FIRST ADVENTURE 47 

I had seen the deer, that second day in the 
forest. I did this, and drew the first of many 
birch-bark pictures I made while living close 
to nature in the wilderness. 

That Friday night, while I was camping 
in my lean-to at Big Spencer Stream, I 
indulged in my first luxury — a smoke — the 
first and last while I was in the woods. Up 
to this time I hadn't missed smoking so 
very much. I had too much else on my mind. 
I just did n't think of it. 

Out of mere curiosity I scraped some squaw 
bark off of a bush, and, using some whitewood 
leaves as a wrapper, rolled a couple of cigar- 
ettes. Strange to say, so far as looks went, 
I noticed but little difference in these cigar- 
ettes from those I had always smoked so 
many of in the city. 

With a live brand I lit one, not because I 
wanted to smoke particularly, but out of mere 
curiosity, as I had a few idle moments to spare. 
I wanted to see the smoke float up. I smoked 
them both and that was the end of it. I 
never tried it again. Not that they weren't 
good cigarettes, but I had no desire to smoke, 
living in the great outdoors. 

There in the wilderness I became convinced 
that smoking is nothing but a luxury. It is 



48 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

a habit, and harms rather than benefits 
man. Its companionship isn't worth the 
smoking. 

How could I think of smoking while I was 
hunting food to keep away the pangs of 
hunger, or fire to keep me warm? Do you 
suppose the luxury of smoking came into my 
mind while I was running around in that 
spruce thicket those first two rainy nights? 
No, indeed! Smoking was the farthest from 
my thoughts. 

By entering the woods I had deprived my- 
self of every luxury. I knew it. I just for- 
got about that part of it as soon as I came 
under the shelter of the trees. I was proud to 
be able to deny myself, and, as a result, feel 
much stronger for it. 

After smoking those two woodland cigar- 
ettes that Friday night, I realized what habit 
stood for in the world. 

My not having cigarettes proved no great 
privation. They weren't meant to be had, 
there in the wilderness. They didn't fit the 
surroundings. 

I had gone into the woods to see if a man 
could be self-sustaining, and get along with- 
out depending on civilization and his friends. 
Thus early I was satisfied that he could. 



MY FIRST ADVENTURE 49 

To the man who has smoked cigarettes 
incessantly for years, as I had, who is under 
the impression that he would experience phy- 
sical harm by abruptly cutting off the stim- 
ulant, let me state that, while he will per- 
haps be nervous and irritable for a few days, 
he will gradually begin to feel better than he 
has for a long time, and be glad that he is 
rid of the habit. Leaving off the smoking 
didn't even make me irritable or nervous; I 
simply forgot it. 

The morning after this cigarette dissipa- 
tion was Saturday. I rose early and started 
along the natural game trails in the direction 
of Bear Mountain. On the way I saw a deer, 
whom I talked to. She wasn't frightened, 
although only a little way behind me. Part 
of the time I didn't pay any attention to 
her. When I stopped, she would stop; and 
when I began to move, she also moved slowly 
on. This continued for quite a piece. 

Finally I arrived on the south side of 
Bear Mountain, where I found a spring. A 
little higher up on the slope of the moun- 
tain was an ideal place for a camp. I de- 
cided to build a first-class home without delay. 
The spot was about four miles from my first 
lean-to, which I had constructed back in the 



50 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

woods near Lost Pond. The other lean-to 
at Big Spencer Stream was only the rough- 
est kind of a shelter. 

At this Bear Mountain lean-to I hit upon 
a plan which would save me much bother at 
night. Up to now, during the night, when 
the weather was cold, I had been forced to 
move around and replenish my fire whenever 
it burnt low. Now it occurred to me to build 
a kind of skid leading down to the fire, on 
which I could pile small logs of wood in such 
a way that, when one log burnt out, it would 
release another log on the skid. 

I made the slanting skid with sticks leaning 
from upright, crotched sticks, and, much to 
my delight, the scheme worked well. 

One night, when I had piled the wood care- 
lessly, the whole pile took fire. But in the 
long run the skid was a successful device. 

I had spent nearly a whole week in the 
forest. I was perfectly well and fairly com- 
fortable, though I still had no clothes of 
any kind. 

More than anything else, I missed the sound 
of a human voice. However, my first Sunday, 
which would be the next day, was to bring 
me company. 




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CHAPTER IV 

THE RESCUE OF THE FAWN 

Sunday in the forest is just the same as 
any other day. 

On this first Sunday of my experiment I 
did one thing which I had not done before. 
When I remembered to make the day's mark 
on my calendar stick, instead of making a 
straight line beside the other six which marked 
the previous days, I scratched a cross like the 
Roman numeral ten. This cross signified that 
it was Sunday and the end of my first week. 

As I made my way down to the spring early 
that morning I knew it was Sunday morning, 
and the thought came to me of how little 
churches would be needed if everyone knew and 
understood nature. Nature is, in truth, a 
religion in herself. 

At the spring I took a long draft of water, 
and as I lay there drinking I caught sight 
of my image upon the mirror-like surface. 
I certainly was wild looking. I saw a naked 
man with disheveled hair and a scraggly 

51 



52 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

growth of beard. I wondered if my mother 
could have seen me just then whether she would 
have recognized me. 

Everything was very still all about me. 
Occasionally the cry of a bird would be heard, 
but that was all. 

While I had been a bit depressed the night 
before, a good rest had made my spirits rise 
again. 

I scooped up handfuls of the water and 
dashed it over my face and body. It was 
deliciously cool, and brought a glow to my skin. 

I felt strong enough to pull up a tree by 
the roots. I was far stronger than I was the 
day I entered the forest. Certainly the ex- 
periment was aiding me physically, thus far. 
I knew this by the way I felt. If a man is 
all right he feels all right. When he doesn't 
feel just right there is some reason for it. 

I went back to my lean-to, stirred up the 
fire, and sat there thinking for awhile. I 
wasn't particularly hungry, so I didn't eat 
anything just then, although I had a plenti- 
ful supply of smoked trout and dried berries 
on hand. 

I never had any regular time for meals. 
I just ate when I felt that I needed to eat. 

By the light around me I could tell that it 



RESCUE OF THE FAWN 53 

must be a bit cloudy, though there among 
the thick trees I could not see the sky. I 
judged it to be about six o'clock. 

The day before I had injured my foot 
slightly by stepping on a sharp piece of wood, 
which protruded from a fallen tree. There 
were still some unused strips of cedar bark 
in one side of my lean-to, so I made up my 
mind to try my hand at a pair of moccasins. 
Using the heaviest of the bark, I wove a sort of 
foot-covering. As I wove, I fitted them to my 
feet. I know I had a better fit than thousands 
of civilized women who walk about the city 
streets in shoes with high heels and pointed 
ends which squeeze their toes all out of shape. 

For ties, I wove in strands of bark, which I 
tied over my instep. They were clumsy to 
walk in at first, but I soon got used to them, 
and they were a protection for my feet. I made 
several pairs. 

While I was finishing off my first moccasins, 
I heard a rustle in the bushes down by the 
spring. I peered through the trees and saw 
a red deer going down to drink. I made a 
slight motion, and immediately her head shot 
up. She had seen me. 

I watched her a moment, and then, as if 
not interested, I went on with my work. After 



54 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

a short time I lifted my head and looked 
again toward the spring. She was still gaz- 
ing straight at me, standing transfixed. 

Then I beheld an interesting thing. Farther 
back, some distance in the open timber, 
was a white fawn, as immovable as her 
mother. The fawn was a little beauty. So 
still did she stand that she looked as if 
she were chiseled out of pure white marble. 

I turned back to my work again, but I saw 
the red deer move slowly on to the spring. 
The little white fawn, however, did not budge. 

As I looked again at the old doe, she scarcely 
paid any attention to me. She knew that I 
would not harm her. But the fawn wasn't 
quite so sure. 

"How are you this morning, old lady?" I 
shouted down to her. Up shot her head like 
a flash. The fawn wheeled about, and bounded 
back a few paces; then, seeing she was not 
pursued, turned again and became once more 
statuesque. 

"You aren't scared of me, are you?" I 
went on. Then I turned away my head and 
made believe I was very busy. Presently the 
animal began drinking. Then she leisurely 
joined the fawn, and together they disappeared. 

At almost exactly the same time the next 



RESCUE OF THE FAWN 55 

morning the pair appeared at the spring again. 
As before, the deer watched me closely for 
awhile, with one ear forward and the other 
backward. The white fawn kept closer to 
its mother to-day. 

As the days went on, they came with marked 
regularity. And it got so I could walk about 
the camp and talk with them while they 
drank and fed around the spring. 

They were great company! The white fawn 
was a beautiful creature. Such animals are 
freaks of nature, and are the most persecuted 
inhabitants of the forest. Their conspicuous 
color is a mark for every other animal of the 
woods, as well as for the hunter. 

The regularity with which animals come to 
places like this is most remarkable. 

In the days that followed, I had many in- 
teresting conversations with these woodland 
creatures. Even the white fawn had grown 
used to me. 

There is something more to tell about 
these animals, but just at present I want to 
describe how I obtained a welcome change 
in my diet. 

Monday it had rained, on and off; but 
Tuesday it began to clear and get colder. I 
left my lean-to early in the morning on another 



5Q ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

exploring expedition. I followed the trail of 
least resistance, striking off occasionally into 
the tangles and deadfalls to cut off a bit, and 
then winding back to the same game trail, 
which I knew turned in that direction. When 
I say ''I knew" I do not mean that I had 
seen it before. But I could tell when such 
a trail would swing to the right or left by the 
lay of the land. 

Everything was wet about me. The woods 
were of a heavy, black growth. So thick 
were the trees that I could see but a short 
distance up the slope of the mountain on my 
left. 

I made another turn in the trail, which led 
down a little incline toward another spring. 
I caught sight of a fox slinking off into the 
bushes just beyond the spring. I gave a little 
squeak to try to bring him back; but he was 
too far ahead. So I kept on down to the 
spring, where I rested on a fallen log. 

I picked a spruce bud and began to chew it. 
I chewed buds and barks a great deal dur- 
ing my two months in the wilderness; and I 
feel sure that for this reason alone I was able to 
go for long periods without eating solid food. 
There is unquestionably a great deal of 
nourishment in these things. I chewed the 



RESCUE OF THE FAWN 57 

alder, cedar, maple, birch, and the bark of the 
mountain ash. 

I also ate roots which were tender and pal- 
atable. Everyone knows what goldthread is. 
There was a lot of this in the woods. It is 
nourishing and healing for the mouth. 

Sitting there on that fallen tree, I was sud- 
denly aroused by another rustle in the leaves. 
It was a spruce partridge. I had seen par- 
tridges many times before. 

I knew it would be easy to catch this bird. 
The spruce partridge is the tamest bird in the 
woods. It is easy to catch them. They seem 
so stupid that a man can nearly walk over 
them before they take flight. 

While I realized the chances of going over 
and picking him up were remote, I knew of 
another almost sure way to get him. I made 
a slip-noose of cedar lining bark, attached this 
to the end of a stick, and cautiously ap- 
proaching the tree on which the partridge was 
perched, I carefully held the noose out in 
front of him. He moved to one side, but 
made no effort to fly away. His curiosity was 
aroused, and he began to watch the noose 
intently. 

As I brought it a little nearer, without the 
slightest hesitation the bird stretched his neck 



58 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

forward and ran his head into the noose 
and was caught. 

There is nothing new in this method. Every 
old woodsman and guide understands the proc- 
ess. 

During the weeks that followed, I killed 
y several partridges with my bow and arrow. 
I made some arrows out of hornbeam slivers. 
Then I ground some small stones into arrow- 
heads, and lashed them on to the notches on 
the ends of the sticks with cedar strands. 

On the other end of the arrow I put feathers 
from the blue heron. These feathers made the 
direction of the arrow true. 

Altogether I got about ten birds during the 
experiment by means of the noose and my 
bow and arrow. 

As soon as I got back to my Bear Mountain 
camp that night I got busy at once with my 
first partridge. I hadn't eaten that day and 
was very hungry. 

Since coming back to civilization, someone 
has asked me if I did n't have difficulty 
in picking the bird clean. I had to laugh 
at that. A partridge doesn't have to be 
picked! 

To prepare a partridge for roasting, all 
you have to do is to make three movements 




THE DEER AND THE WHITE FAWN. A SKETCH MADE IN THE WOODS 
BY THE AUTHOR ON BIRCH BARK, WITH BURNT STICKS FROM HIS FIRES 



RESCUE OF THE FAWN 59 

of the hand; in fact, one movement will do it. 
First, you take hold of the back and breast 
of the bird and tear it in two. In one hand 
you will find the breast and legs, and in the 
other a lot of skin and feathers. Pull the 
skin down over the body and throw it away. 
Having disposed of the back, head, and entrails, 
you will have left the legs and breast, ready 
for roasting. 

After I had done this I raked over my fire, 
and placed the bird on a crotch stick to roast. 

In spite of having no salt, that partridge 
tasted better by far than anything else I had 
had to eat in the woods. 

I have mentioned the lack of salt several 
times already, but haven't gone into de- 
tails about its not affecting me. I missed it, 
and missed it greatly, but purely from a pala- 
table standpoint. The lack of it seemed to 
have absolutely no effect upon my physical 
condition. I did n 't really need it. From 
what I observed, I should say that the use of 
salt is nothing more than a habit. It is used, 
in my opinion, not because the system needs 
it, but because it makes food taste better. 

Animals, in their natural haunts, are forced 
to go without salt indefinitely. I believe their 
greediness, when they do find it in the salt- 



60 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

licks, is due to the taste rather than to the 
actual need of it. 

The eating of that partridge had put me 
in the mood for work. I took out some sheets 
of birch bark, and sitting there in the light of 
the fire began to write my diary, in which I 
jotted down interesting incidents of the day. 
Then I sketched a little forest scene on a piece 
of fungus, and afterwards the picture of a 
young doe I had seen jumping over a log. 

I would have given a great deal to have my 
canvas and oil tubes. I missed them greatly. 
However, I could get along without them, for 
everything actually needed for art was right 
at hand there in the woods, if I would but 
go after it. I finally did hunt up some artists' 
materials; but this is for a later chapter. 

The following day was Wednesday, the 
thirteenth of August, and my birthday. I 
shall never forget that day. It was one of 
the hardest of all I spent in the forest. 

It was hard because of the memories that 
passed in endless array across my mind. With 
those pictures of my mother and my early 
life, which I have already told you about, 
came memories of other birthdays of recent 
years, when splendid suppers and jolly fel- 
lows had been all about me. 



RESCUE OF THE FAWN 61 

I don't suppose in the history of civilized 
man there was ever quite such a birthday. 
There was no one to speak to but the red 
deer with her little white fawn, and the other 
small animals which came near my lean-to 
in search of food. 

I simply lost myself in that whirl of past 
recollections, and yearned for my folks, my 
friends, and the world. 

A primitive man can be sentimental if he 
wishes to. Even if he had never had the 
outside world memories with which to make 
comparisons he would find much close to 
nature and in the hearts of animals to create 
that mood which has moved worlds. 

Finding these thoughts were getting the best 
of me, I threw them off. The sun had arisen 
high in the heavens. It was time for me to 
be moving. 

Armed with birch-bark reports and sketches 
I started for the cache on the outskirts of my 
domain, where I had made arrangements to 
leave such things for the outside world. This 
cache was known only to two guides, who came 
there once a week at sundown. 

I always made it a point to visit the cache 
early in the day, so I would be far away by 
the time the guides arrived for the birch bark 



62 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

I had left. The secret hiding place was located 
in the twisted roots of a blown-down spruce. 

No message was ever put in for me. I had 
given orders to the guides not to do this, im- 
pressing upon them that anything whatever 
left for me would spoil my plan of keeping 
absolutely out of touch with civilization. 

Some days I felt ready to come out and 
call everything off; but at those critical times 
something within me came to my rescue; and 
I continued to stay. 

The nights which followed my trips to the 
cache were always hard for me. It was mental 
torment to remain there alone in the wilder- 
ness. The physical side was absolutely noth- 
ing. 

The rest of that birthday was uneventful. 
I gathered some more berries, but saw nothing 
of particular interest. 

In fact, there was nothing worth writing 
about until Friday — the fifteenth of August. 
On that morning, as usual, my friends, the red 
deer and the white fawn, had paid me their 
daily visit. 

Soon after breakfast I went after some 
birch bark down at Spencer Lake. I had crossed 
the Spencer Trail and was following the west- 
ern shore when I heard something ahead of 



RESCUE OF THE FAWN 63 

me. Looking through the bushes I saw a deer 
and a fawn feeding. 

I was just about to speak to them when I 
saw a wild-cat sneaking along a log which hung 
over the water. I stood still and watched. The 
cat was watching the deer, although evidently 
it did n't see me, for in a moment it backed 
down the log to the shore again and sneaked off 
through the bushes. 

When I looked toward the place where the 
deer had been I discovered that they had 
gone. On my way I forgot about the incident. 

Farther oh my eye was attracted to a hawk 
which was flying in wide circles above the 
lake. The enormous bird would occasionally 
flap his great wings a few times, hang for a 
moment in midair, then sail around on mo- 
tionless, outstretched wings. I thought of 
the aeroplane as the bird soared aloft. 

All at once a scream — an unearthly scream 
behind me — brought down my attention from 
the skies. I never heard a scream like it 
before. 

As I ran back in the direction of the sound, it 
came again, this time to my right. I turned 
and went in that direction. After a time I 
heard it once more, louder and more terrify- 
ing than before, and apparently on the left 



64 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

side of me. There was something horrible 
about it! 

Continuing to the left I found a spruce blow- 
down. I jumped upon the trunk, and walked 
along listening. I caught a sound from the 
foliage at the farther end. 

Presently through the fallen tree-tops I saw 
two eyes. They disappeared in a second. Again 
I heard the rustle under the tree-tops lying 
on the ground, and jumping down I rushed 
around to one side. There lay the little fawn 
on its side, panting and bleeding. 

As I drew nearer to help her to her feet the 
frightened creature staggered up and ran a 
few paces. But her strength was gone and she 
staggered and fell. 

I looked around for the mother deer, but 
she was nowhere to be seen. 

In a few seconds the little creature scrambled 
to her feet and staggered into the thicket. 

I had arrived in time to see the wild-cat 
measuring the distance between the fawn and 
the thicket beyond. 

Going on through the trees I reached the 
shore of Spencer again. The first thing that 
caught my eye there was the mother deer and 
the fawn swimming the narrows. They disap- 
peared in the woods on the opposite shore. 



CHAPTER V 

TRAPPING A BEAR 

That night it was colder than usual. I 
began to realize that, sooner or later, I would 
be forced to break the game laws and get some 
sort of skins for protection. 

During the day, while I was on the move, 
I really didn't need anything on my body. 
In fact, through the entire trip, even up to 
the very last day, I went around the forest, 
rain or shine, absolutely naked. But at night 
I did need something for a covering. 

It was also time for me to be thinking about 
what I should wear when I came back to 
civilization. I could scarcely return to the 
world naked! I thought of the deer I had ob- 
tained and then lost. 

In my wanderings I had seen many signs of 
bears. Once, in the burnt lands, I saw three 
feeding on the berries, shortly after the deer 
episode. 

A bearskin would mean much to me. Then, 
too, I could utilize the sinew and meat to good 
advantage. 

66 



66 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

'A man little dreams v/hat he can accomplish 
until he is put to the test. I fully believe 
that necessity, coupled with determination 
and confidence, makes failure impossible. 

From the first moment the idea of getting a 
bear came into my head I felt confident I could 
trap one. I carefully went over in my mind 
various ways I might make the attempt, and 
when morning came I had my plan all mapped 
out. 

I didn't even wait that day to see if my 
friends, the red deer and white fawn, would 
come to the spring. I was all bear now, and 
was anxious to get to work constructing a 
trap. 

For over an hour I walked about searching 
for a suitable spot and finally found the right 
place. 

A deadfall was impractical, so my plan was 
to build a combination pit and deadfall, much 
after the plan of the Indian way of trapping 
grizzly bears in the west. 

Digging a pit meant a lot of work. I started 
in by loosening the ground with sharp pointed 
stones and hornbeam sticks. It was slow 
work, but I made some progress, scooping the 
earth out with flat shale from ledges. 

I worked for several hours that day, return- 



TRAPPING A BEAR 67 

ing to my partially excavated hole the next 
day and again setting to work. 

I don't know how many hours I worked 
on that pit; it might have been ten or fifteen 
during the two or three days I kept at it. 

Once during the digging I thought I should 
have to give up that spot, for I came across 
some heavy rock and buried, petrified wood. 
It took the most arduous labor to dislodge that 
rock and chip my way through the wood until 
I found earth again. 

At last the hole was large enough to hold a 
bear, being about three and a half or four 
feet deep. 

I bedded two logs — one on each side — in 
the earth I had scooped from the hole. 

I next made a kind of deadfall over the pit 
with logs and sticks, covering this with rocks 
I had taken out of the hole. 

Then I set a spindle trip, which resembled 
the figure four, under the deadfall. This spin- 
dle I baited with stale fish. I arranged the bait 
quite high up so that the bear would have to 
stand on his hind legs to get it. 

The trap was done at last, and I was pleased 
with it. 

The covering loaded with rocks fitted se- 
curely just inside the bed logs. This would 



68 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

make it impossible to move the top from side 
to side when once it was down. 

I did n't get a bear that night, but the next 
night as I passed by the pit I thought I heard 
a rustle as if some animal were moving away 
from the trap. I did n't go any nearer, because 
through the trees I could just make out the 
slant of the roof. It had n't been sprung 
yet. 

The next night I ''looked" the trap and 
found a bear in it. 

While I had been confident all along that I 
would be able to land a bear, there was more or 
less surprise attached to the capture of this one. 

Coming up to the side of the pit I saw, 
through the roof-cover, a young bear, making 
every effort to get out. 

'' This is great luck, " I said to myself. " Every- 
thing is coming my way." There would be 
the skin, and the meat, and I began to think 
of everything about the animal I could use. 

I made up my mind that he must not get 
away from me. I can't describe to you my 
feelings just then. I imagine they were some- 
thing like those of a miser when there is a 
possibility of his losing his gold. 

At that time the bear was worth more to 
me than all the gold in the world. 



TRAPPING A BEAR 69 

Considering the situation carefully I found 
that I would have to break away some of the 
lashing in order to get at the animal. But 
I had to be careful not to break away too much, 
so I made an aperture just big enough for him 
to stick his head out. 

Before doing this I got a hornbeam club, 
which I held in readiness. 

Presently out came the nose of the bear. 
I made a vicious swing and missed him. My 
presence so enraged the animal that he struggled 
around trying frantically to escape. Again 
his head came up through the torn place in the 
cover, and this time I landed squarely on 
top of it! 

But you can't kill a bear by hitting him over 
the head. You must strike him on the nose. 
I knew that, and just waited my chance. 

As I looked down at him a feeling of pity 
came over me at the method I was forced 
to use. But how else could I do it? Pretty 
soon he stuck out his front paws. I swung 
and hit themx. With a cry of pain he pulled 
them back. 

Keeping my eyes on the bear every minute 
I backed away to a tree and broke off a small 
limb covered with leaves. Returning to the 
trap I tore away another lashing. 



70 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

With my left hand I began to dangle the 
leaves on the end of the branch in his face, to 
divert his attention so that I could deliver a 
blow with the club. 

In his anger a good part of his nose came 
out. I swung my club, landing on the side 
of the bear's nose. The animal toppled over 
in the pit and lay perfectly still. 

Knowing bears of old I did not take any 
chances even then. I prodded him with the 
stick. There was no question about it — he 
was dead! 

It had been pretty strenuous work, so I 
decided to put off the task of skinning the 
creature until the next day. I knew what 
that would mean without any knife! It would 
take me hours to complete the work. 

Catching that bear was the biggest thing I 
had yet accomplished in the forest. 

I think every man who has accomplished 
something a bit bigger than the ordinary 
things of his daily routine has a right to feel 
proud. It is a part of his reward. 

However, there was a great deal of luck at- 
tached to my catching that bear. Anyway I 
had him, and I was pleased beyond measure. 

The red deer and the little white fawn came 
up to my spring the next morning. 



TRAPPING A BEAR 71 

By seven o'clock I was at the trap again. On 
the way I picked up the sharpest-edged rocks 
I couW find, throwing away those I had as 
I came across better ones. These rocks are 
surprisingly sharp, and abound everywhere in 
this region. 

I was ready for a hard day's work. 

Pulling away the covering, I broke down the 
side of the pit and forced a couple of logs 
under the body of the bear, raising him slightly. 
I should estimate that he weighed close to 

/wo hundred pounds. 
By getting a good hold and tugging and haul- 
/ ing I managed to drag him up the side of the pit 
I had just broken down. Then I rolled him 
over on his back. I would have given anything 
for a knife just then! In its place I took one 
of the sharp rocks and began sawing back and 
forth on the inside of one of his hind legs. 

After a seemingly endless time the hair 
began to curl up under the rock. It worked 
hard at first, but by putting all my muscle 
back of it I finally broke the skin. 

Not until later had I worked down the 
hind legs, up the stomach, and then up and 
down the inside of the front legs. 

While it was a crude piece of work, the skin 
was now ready to be taken off. 



7'i ALONi: IN 11 IK WII.DKHNKSS 

I was liri'd al'U-r linisliiii}^ (his si mil. A few 
moiiitnls' rest and I was at work ugaiii. Tlum 
for hours 1 (ujj;).i;c(l and pulled al that skin 
ti\in;!; to i(Mn()\'(': it from the (artass. Alter- 
nately workim; and restinj^ for short periods, 
I took hold of the skin with one hand whiK> I 
lippi'd it awa\' from the llesh by serapinj^ 
betwi'en the two with the sluirpcsL stones i 
had. 

Oi eourse, ((nantities of nu^at eaini> olf with 
llu' skin, hut That tlidn'L hothiM- me for 1 
kiu'w 1 could S( rape it olT latiM". 

Not until late in llu" afttMUoon iud|;in|j; 
1)\' the Sim did I linally pull that skin en- 
tii'eU' off. And I had stalled to wtuk about 
se\'en that inorniu!;! 

As Lost Tond was uoi \(M\' far from wheri' 1 
IkhI made the trap I dei idiul to i;o t heri\ and 
afleiwaids to my Inst lean to, whieh was in 
(hat vicinity. 

!''irst I sawed oil" with \\\y roek a. larj;e i>or- 
tion of llu> hi-ar meat for ft>od, ^atherini; the 
sinew. vSlinj:;in,u; tlu^ meat and skin over my 
shoulder, 1 started for c;uni>. 

1 eonfi'ss 1 was ])retly nuuh "all in" when 
1 arrivi'd at the pond. My hands wer^^ erampecl 
and seratehed, and every nuisele in my baek 
anil aims aehed. 



TRAITINC; A BEAR 7:5 

Throwing the skin and meat down on the 
shore F i)lunjj;(Ml into the; water. The l)ath was 
very refreshing; it made a new man out of 
me. After I came out I kiy down in the sun 
to rest. 

The beavers were busy over on the dam, and 
1 watched them a long time. 

With visions of an early bed I went back 
into the woods in the direction of my lean-to, 
where I built a new lire and ate i^ujvper of (h'ied 
berries and smoked trout, which I had pre- 
viously stored away for just such an emer- 
gency. 

I slept soundly that niglit. 

In tiie morning the first thing I determined 
to do was to get that skin into some sort of 
condition. I laid it out on some cedar logs 
and fleshed it clean, by scraping it off with rocks 
and j)uliing it over tlie logs. 

Next I took a sheet of Ijirch bark and made 
a water-tight dish, l-'illing this with water, 1 
threw in some small ])ieces of rotten wood, and 
began to steej) it over tlie fire. A bir( li bark 
dish will never burn l)eh)w thi; water line. 

When the mixture had steei)ed enough I 
spread the bear-liide flat on the ground, with 
the hair side down, and poured the li(|uid 
from the birch-bark dish upon it. By repeating 



74 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

this process several times the skin became 
tanned to a certain extent. 

A thorough drying was needed now. I 
singled out two saplings about the proper dis- 
tance apart, and, stretching the skin as much 
as I could, I laced it to the slender trunks with 
cedar bark. 

I had yet to work the skin and make it 
pliable and soft. 

Off and on ^ worked on that hide for about 
three days. During those days I walked back 
to the trap and brought the remainder of the 
meat to my camp. 

Tearing with the grain, I ripped the meat 
into strips with my hands, roasting some 
for immediate use, and putting the rest in the 
smoke hole. I used quantities of dirty wood 
in this smoking process, as I could get up a lot 
of smoke that way. This smoked meat was n't 
particularly pleasing to look at, but it would 
keep and was nourishing. 

While this was not the first time I had ever 
trapped a bear in my life, it was the first time 
I had ever eaten any of the meat. 

In my years of experience as a guide I had 
hunted and trapped all kinds of game — ani- 
mals and birds. But I had never eaten a 
pound of wild meat in my life, because I never 



TRAPPING A BEAR 75 

liked it particularly. In fact, I had never 
eaten much fresh meat. 

Now I was compelled to eat it. I didn't 
relish it a bit; but, after I devoured some, 
I always felt stronger, and knew that it was 
just what I needed. 

Aside from the comfort of having that bear- 
skin to throw over me at night, and the supply 
of food I had obtained, I had secured in the 
sinews of that creature a lasting cord for my 
fire-kindler. The inner lining bark of the 
cedar, while it had answered the purpose after 
a fashion, was not the best thing for sawing 
back and forth. It wore out too quickly. \/^ 

With the sinew string I would not have to use 
any care for fear of its breaking. I could 
work the bow with all my strength, and the 
cord would not be affected in any way, pro- 
ducing the friction in much less time. 

There is no known substance for sinew that 
can equal its toughness and lasting qualities. 
The Indians have a way of chewing it and 
stripping it into thin fibers, which they use 
as thread to sew moccasins and rawhide. 

I hadn't reached the sewing stage just yet. 

Since I had trapped the bear something 
had been prowling around my camp at night. 
I could tell by the sound that it wasn't a 



76 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

very large animal, but as it kept coming I 
became curious to see what it might be. 

First I thought that the meat in my lean-to 
might have attracted a wild-cat. Then the idea 
of a bear cub came into my mind. 

Anyway, I was bound to find out just what 
it was, so one night, just before getting ready 
to turn in, I let my fire burn pretty low and 
sat up watching for some signs of the visitor. 

On the other nights the sound of crackling 
twigs had always come just after my fire had 
burned out. 

Scarcely had the last glimmer of my fire flick- 
ered away when, off in the darkness to my 
right, came the expected sound. I had al- 
most dozed off as I sat there, but I woke up 
quickly and listened. 

Straining my eyes in the direction of the 
noise I could barely make out the outline of 
some animal. It was impossible to tell what 
it was, but I knew it was dark colored. 

As if suddenly switched on by an unseen 
electric current, two balls of light flashed in 
the darkness. The creature was looking at 
me too! The fire was between us, and as a 
lazy flame sputtered a moment before fading 
away I could see the reflection of the fire- 
light dancing in those eyes! 



TRAPPING A BEAR 77 

Presently the eyes disappeared. I seized 
a smouldering brand, and, fanning it into flame, 
rushed toward the spot. 

I was on the right track, sure enough, for 
I nearly fell over whatever it was. It was 
so slow in getting away that I managed to 
get it between the dying fire and me. 

I was now convinced that the animal was 
a bear cub by the way it acted. Through 
the dim light from my brand, which was al- 
ready burning low again, I saw that the crea- 
ture was black. I could n't see clearly enough 
to determine the head and hind; but I felt sure 
that my company was a clumsy young bear. 

My first thought was to catch him alive. 

The little fellow made a sudden turn and 
almost dodged past me, but I hurled the 
brand at him and drove him back toward the 
fire. He was literally between two fires! 

As the brand struck the ground it went out. 
With that the animal turned and ran directly 
toward me. Again he tried to rush by me, but 
I jumped in front of him and stopped him 
with my legs. 

Then I jumped again, but in a different 
direction! My supposed bear cub had turned 
out to be a hedgehog, and for some moments 
I was fully occupied removing quills from 



78 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

my legs. My bark chaps were ample protec- 
tion against briers and brush, but not against 
quills of hedgehogs. 

My third week in the wilderness was already 
drawing to a close. Physically I was perfectly 
well. I had plenty of food and a comfortable 
bearskin. But mentally I was suffering. 

It was terribly lonesome! 



CHAPTER VI 

THE MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 

Since I have come back to civilization hun- 
dreds of people, with real sympathy in their 
voices, have said to me, ''How you must have 
suffered!" 

In every instance they referred to physical 
suffering. They imagined themselves out in 
the dark woods, alone, and cold, and without 
any clothing. They thought of eating nothing 
but berries and roots, and with fertile imagi- 
nations, colored up by extreme contrasts be- 
tween wilderness life and the life of civiliza- 
tion, no doubt, conjured up quite terrible 
pictures in their minds. 

They were all wrong. 

I did not experience any physical suffering 
to speak of, though I did suffer greatly in 
another way. My suffering was purely mental 
and a hundredfold worse than any physical 
suffering I experienced. 

Before I entered the forest I had never given 
a serious thought to the mental side of the 

79 



80 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

question. I wanted to get away from the 
sham side of modern life, and from people. I 
looked forward to being alone, where I could 
have a chance to think out various problems 
without interruption. It never occurred to 
me that I might be lonely. 

In past years I had often been in the woods 
alone, though, to be sure, not for very long 
at a time. In those days the solitude would 
be broken by the appearance of some chance 
hunter, once in a while, and my talking with him 
would break the monotony until someone 
else came along. 

But here alone in the wilderness day after 
day without the sound of a human voice, 
or the contact of a human being, and the 
knowledge that there wouldn't be either for 
two whole months, it was very different. 

The complete isolation got on my nerves. 

It was far harder for me than it was for the 
original primitive man. He not only had his 
own kind about him, but he knew nothing of 
any other life than the one he was leading. 
I always had a comparison before me. 

The only thing which really puzzled me be- 
fore I went into the woods was whether or 
not I could stand the cold without clothes. 
Afterwards this side of the question was a 



MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 81 

mere nothing compared with the mental tor- 
ment I had completely overlooked. 

Every night at twilight my mind would be- 
gin tormenting me with memories. I used to 
force myself to fight off these moods by sketch- 
ing with charcoal on birch bark and doing 
other things. 

The torture always commenced with pictures 
of my friends and those I loved best coming 
into my mind. My heart was with them. 
I would dream of them as their faces rose 
before me in the firelight. When finally I 
dropped off into a troubled sleep, I would 
keep right on seeing them in my dreams. 

Time and again those mental spells were 
almost too much for me. At those times I 
would vow that I would leave the forest on 
the very next day. 

I remember, sitting there before my fire, 
more than once the human thought would 
come to me, ^'You are doing something that 
no other man has ever done." And like a 
schoolboy who has received one hundred per 
cent in his lessons I yearned for someone 
to tell me that I was doing well! This is some- 
what of a confession, but it is true and I know 
the reader will understand. 

When I made my bow out of a rude big 



82 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

stick, and through the burning process worked 
out the weapon, I wanted to show it to some- 
one and tell how I had made it with just fire 
and a stone. 

Iwentually I would always get back to nor- 
mal by acknowledging to myself that any 
man with stuff in him could do everything 
I was doing. I certainly was n't going to con- 
fess to myself that I lacked "stuff!" 

A man fears, above all else, being called a 
quitter. Through that fear he accomplishes 
things he never dreamed he could accomplish. 
Therefore, I maintain, that to a certain extent 
vanity and pride are good assets for a man to 
have. 

Again and again the thought would come to 
me that some people who didn't understand 
anything about the woods would doubt some 
of the things I had done, simply because they 
had never heard of such things before. Folks 
never doubt the things they know about. 

It was really nothing to get along in the woods. 
Everything I needed was there, and I knew 
how to get it. 

I made no deliberate plan for my daily ex- 
istence, but let each day take care of itself. 
I was simply a part of the forest, and as the 
forest thrived so did I. 




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MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 83 

My whole fight was to stay there alone in 
the wilderness two full months. 

Once more I want to emphasize that the 
physical suffering was nothing. 

Such a life as I led could have been duplicated 
by a child of ten of the primitive type. Elimi- 
nating the fear of the forest, even a modern 
child would not have suffered mentally as I 
did, for he would have had only the brain 
of a child and not the brain of a man. 

Had I possessed the brain of an animal I 
could have lived far more contentedly than 
I did with my own civilized power of thinking. 

An animal knows where and how to get 
sustenance in the woods. If a forest creature 
knows by instinct, couldn't a human being 
with his higher intelligence learn? And if a 
human being lived on and on in the woods, 
wouldn't he be constantly learning more and 
more about them? In time would n't he even- 
tually come to know what the animals know, 
and with his superior brains wouldn't he be 
master of all he surveyed? 

So, you see, with that outside world con- 
tinually coming back to haunt me I had a 
fight on my hands. 

Time and time again I said to myself, "Here 
is a chance to show that you are a man. " 



84 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Physically I was in the pink of condition, 
and I knew it. All I had to contend with was 
the mental side. Nothing in the forest was too 
difficult for me to endure. 

I reasoned it all out this way. Any man, 
no matter what sort of a man, could go into 
the woods. Almost anyone could go through 
the process of removing his clothing. I knew 
that no one could freeze to death in the north- 
ern Maine woods in August or September. 
He would n't starve to death for three or four 
days, perhaps longer. 

I figured out that all a man needed was to 
keep his head. Surely any man would know 
enough to hunt for a spring. Water alone 
would keep him alive for ten days. Even a 
child can pick berries, and it is not a very 
difficult problem to eat the berries one picks. 
Berries will sustain a man for a long time. 

Now when night falls anyone knows enough 
to lie down if he is tired. If he is cold he will 
instinctively get up and run around to increase 
his circulation, which will soon make him 
warm again. He will not catch cold if he keeps 
going; in fact, he will unconsciously be putting 
himself in fine condition. 

Of course, it required some ingenuity and 
exertion to get a fire and a skin for covering 



MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 85 

and different kinds of food, but still all these 
were obtainable in the forest if one but went 
after them. 

Thinking all this over in my mind I saw how 
comparatively simple the physical side of the 
experiment was. 

It was far harder to obtain mental food and 
comfort. That was my battle. 

I remember one night when I was in despair. 
I sat looking dejectedly into the fire, vowing 
fervently to myself — and I meant it just then 
— ''This is my last night in this wilderness. 
I don't care if my time is n't up. Life is too 
short to be spent voluntarily suffering the way 
I am suffering." I was pessimistic about 
everything. 

"All my life long I have tried to do the very 
best I knew how," I mused, ''and it has not 
been appreciated." 

There I was enveloping myself with self- 
pity — a wretched, human thing to do. I 
imagined people were laughing at me out 
there in the world and calling me a "crazy 
fool." 

So far as I was concerned I had proved con- 
clusively to myself that a man can exist in the 
wilderness alone, just as I had claimed he 
could before I went in. What was the use 



86 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

of torturing myself any further to live out a 
certain time just because I had said I would? 

I didn't care what the people said about 
my staying the full time out. To me that side 
was trivial compared to the fact that I had 
actually lived weeks as I promised I would 
live. 

That night, which was shortly after I had 
trapped the bear, I made up my mind that I 
would go to King and Bartlett Camps and 
have the thing over the next day. 

Then I began to wonder what the sportsmen 
would say. Here is what I could imagine I 
heard them shout: ''You made a mighty good 
showing and we don't blame you for quitting 
before the two months were up!" They were 
bound to say that. Getting away from that 
"Quitting before the two months were up" 
was impossible out there in the civilized world. 
The world would never look at the value of 
what I had already proved by my life in the 
woods, but would grudgingly remember that 
I had quit before the stipulated time — al- 
though that extra time, which meant such 
mental suffering to me, would probably add 
nothing to the intrinsic value of the experi- 
ment. 

Not what I had done but that I had quit 



MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 87 

was bound to be foremost in the minds of 
everyone. In a way it would mean that I had 
failed to make good. 

I did n 't like that thought at all, and in an 
effort to get rid of it started on some arduous 
physical work. This always was a great help, 
and brought me back to a normal state of 
mind. 

Day after day I would agree with myself 
to stick it out one day longer. Another night 
would come, with its terrible mental battle. 
''Just one more day," I would say again; and 
thus the days went slowly by. 

Never before had I realized the wide gulf 
that lies between the primitive life our ancestors 
lived and the high plane of civilization reached 
by the world of to-day. The great complexity 
of modern life is best seen from the lowly state 
I was living in. 

The biggest temptation I ever had in my 
whole life came on the morning of August 
twenty-eighth. I was on my way to the 
spring and had just stepped out of a clump 
of bushes when I saw a real live human being 
kneeling down to get a drink. It was a man! 
I was so amazed that I could n't move. I was 
just about to turn away and dash back into 
the timber when he looked up and saw me. 



88 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

He jumped back a little and stood looking 
at me keenly. 

Then the man said, "Hello, Joe," in a kind 
of hesitating manner. 

I had never seen him before in my life and 
an almost overpowering desire came upon 
me to talk to him — just a word or two with 
another human being! 

" It will be all off —it will be all off " kept sing- 
ing through my brain. I stood there dumb for a 
second, then turned and went back into the 
woods. There I peered through the trees and 
watched the man go off to the left and disappear. 

I never caught another glimpse of that man 
again until after I had come out of the forest. 
He proved to be a Maine guide. Afterwards he 
told me I was a wild-looking thing in my 
bronze skin and scraggly beard. 

After seeing that one human being it was 
worse for me than ever. How much easier it 
was to find food, fire, and shelter than mental 
peace and contentment! 

Since getting my bearskin I had become ob- 
sessed with the idea that the game wardens were 
on my trail, and I worked myself up into a bitter 
frame of mind concerning them. But I want to 
confine this particular phase of my mental 
suffering to another chapter. 



MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 89 

After seeing the man at the spring I hurried 
back to my camp and made quick preparations 
for getting out of that part of the country. 
I put everything I had in my pack, including 
dried berries, smoked fish, and a quantity of 
smoked and dried meat. Then I rolled up my 
bearskin, placed it on top of the load, and 
started down the trail. 

Fearing that the man might tell people 
he had seen me in that vicinity I left a note 
for visitors on a tree close by the lean-to, an- 
nouncing that I should not return there. 

Then with my head down I walked and 
walked for miles. I don't know exactly 
where I slept that night in the forest, but 
it was somewhere with my back against a 
tree. 

The next day I threw up a shelter on the 
northwest side of Bear Mountain, which I 
used as a sort of headquarters for awhile. 

Constantly being obliged to wage battles 
with myself there in the wilderness has meant 
big things for me, which I keenly realize now 
that it is all over. It opened a new line of 
thought I had never followed before. 

Among other reflections alone in the woods 
I thought how sympathy was wasted out in 
the civilized world, especially in regard to the 



90 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

so-called poorer class. I made up my mind 
that it is the middle class that suffers most. 
The middle-class family that experiences re- 
verses has a comparison of living — just as I 
had in the forest — which makes it harder 
to bear. 

Those who have known nothing but poverty 
all their lives do not have this comparison, for 
they never had anything to lose. Yet nine- 
tenths of human sympathy goes their way 
simply because the human being in comfortable 
circumstances allows himself to judge the man 
and woman living in poverty from his own 
plane. 

This thought led me on to admitting that 
there is more real contentment in some hovels 
of the very poor than there is in some of the 
homes of the wealthy. 

If I could have had just one human compan- 
ion in the wilderness I would have been per- 
fectly contented away from the luxury of the 
world. Human companionship is the greatest 
luxury I know of. 

My mind was starving! 

I began to wander farther from my lean-to, 
leaving it for whole days. 

On rainy nights I crept into some thicket 
to rest, while on fair ones I would pick out 



MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 91 

some tree and curl up on the ground close 
to the trunk. 

Every day I would say, ''I'll stick it out 
just for to-day." 

Twice along the trails I had come upon the 
carcass of a deer, which, in each instance, 
had evidently been killed by wild-cats. But 
in both cases the skin was so badly decomposed 
that it was impossible to use any of it. 

A short time later I passed the body of 
a deer still warm. A cat must have killed it 
just as I approached, and was possibly hiding 
near me in the thicket. 

Here was an unexpected find! While it 
was a small deer it offered some sort of a skin, 
and every bit would help me now. 

I hunted around for the wild-cat but it was 
nowhere to be seen. 

Then I began to search for rocks with which 
to skin the animal, and presently finding some 
I commenced to work. 

Skinning a deer is a very different proposition 
from skinning a bear. Breaking the skin is 
not so difficult, and when once it is broken it 
peels off very easily. 

After completing the task, I cut off what 
venison I needed and hunted for a place to 
camp. I really dreaded the night now; it 



92 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

brought too many thought-pictures of the 
outside world with it. 

I camped under the shelter of a big spruce 
blowdown that night. Having an extra skin 
and a fresh supply of meat helped me to de- 
cide to stick it out a little longer, which I did 
before I fell asleep. 



CHAPTER VII 

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 

While I always had an inherent love for 
wild animals my contact with them during 
my two months alone in the wilderness has 
made me love them even more. 

I was, in truth, one of them. They were 
my neighbors, my companions, my friends. 
Their proximity meant much to me, especially 
at the times when I was most depressed. I 
even talked with them, and, in their own way, 
they talked back to me. 

I felt confident that in six months ' time every 
creature in that particular part of the wilder- 
ness would have known me and become friendly. 

There is a great deal to be learned from 
animals. Discontentment is unknown among 
them. They are individually free, go when 
and where they please, and do whatever they 
wish to do. 

Discontent in me had come as one of the 
results of a civilized life. 

Men and women of the world are nothing 

93 



94 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

but animals called human beings — a polite 
name, that is all. Fundamentally they are 
no different from the animals that roam the 
woods. 

I felt myself very close to these wild crea- 
tures. I understood them because I was living 
among them, and had lived among them be- 
fore. 

Whenever I chanced to come across a deer 
on one of the trails, that deer knew instinctively 
the moment she saw me whether or not I had 
an idea of doing her harm. She understood 
me very quickly, and I understood her. That 
is why the red deer and the little white fawn 
that came to my spring every morning were 
such good friends of mine. 

There isn't an animal in the forest that 
does n 't want to make friends wdth man ! 

I had a flock of partridges in the woods so 
tame that two of them would actually follow 
behind me on the trail. I used to laugh at 
them. They were jealous for fear one would 
get nearer to me than the other. Whenever 
one would come quite close to me the other 
would peck at him and drive him back. 

One morning I came across four or five of 
these birds on the lower limb of a tree. As 
I went closer and began talking to them 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 95 

they daintily sidestepped on that limb for 
all the world like a lot of coquettish young 
women. 

Finally it got so I could put my hand out and 
touch them. They knew that I would n't hurt 
them. Under such conditions I never caught 
a partridge; it would have been a breach of 
confidence. 

When I needed a bird for food I went hunting 
for one, but in such instances I never made 
the bird feel that I was friendly. 

Those partridges I was speaking about on 
the lower limb of that tree wanted me to touch 
them. They would playfully peck at my hand 
and dance coyly along the branch in a kind 
of teasing way, exactly as a woman says ''no" 
when she means "yes." 

As to the deer — they will get so tame that 
they will come right up to your lean-to and 
eat out of your hand. You cannot tame deer 
by going to them. Arouse their curiosity, and 
show that you will not harm them. While 
they are still curious they will never forget 
you. They see and smell you, and their curi- 
osity will bring them back. 

You don't have to go [near any wild or 
domestic animal to tame it. It will come to 
you and live with you and sleep with you. All 



96 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

you have to do is simply to conceal your own 
curiosity, n 

Whenever you see a wild animal in the 
woods go toward him carelessly. Let the 
creature know that you have seen him, and 
then suddenly change your course or do some- 
thing to show that you aren't apparently 
interested in him. Pay absolutely no atten- 
tion to him. He knows that you saw him and 
yet went about your own business without offer- 
ing to harm him. That animal will never 
forget you. 

It is not man that the wild animal is afraid 
of, but the human scent. If a deer, for instance, 
sees a man standing still in the forest, and the 
wind is blowing in the wrong way for him to 
catch the scent, he thinks the man is a part of 
the forest just like a log or a tree; but the 
minute he catches the scent he is on the alert. 
Perhaps in his own life the human scent has 
meant danger to him. On the other hand, while 
it may never have bothered him, the human 
scent may have meant injury to some of his 
forbears and so he naturally inherits the 
instinctive fear. 

However, in that scent, the animal can 
analyze the man. He can instinctively read a 
man's character by his smell. This is the 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 97 

reason why a deer will fly from one person 
the moment he gets his scent, while he will 
stand by and watch out of curiosity another 
man who means him no harm. 

I greatly deplore the wrong teachings about 
the woods and animals given the child of to-day. 
True, the popular fairy tale develops the im- 
agination along certain lines, but this imagi- 
nation does more harm than good where nature 
is concerned in such stories. 

In fairy tales the woods are always deep, 
dark forests. Giants and witches live there. 
The child learns to fear the woods, especially 
at night. 

The average young child who heard a hoot- 
owl screech from the depths of a dark forest 
would shriek with terror. To him the sound 
would mean witches and goblins and gnomes 
and other horrible things. In reality that 
poor little hoot-owl would only be predicting 
the coming of a storm! 

After a child gets through hearing stories 
out of animal books he will cry out, "Don't 
go into the woods. There's probably a wild- 
cat up in a tree and he'll pounce down on youl" 
— the one idea left in his mind being fear. 

Nature is the source from which we live 
and move and have our very being. Liberty 



98 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

is the foundation of good government. Yet 
it is as important that the child be taught to 
know and value nature as it is that he mem- 
orize the national anthem of his country and 
pledge allegiance to the flag. 

Nowhere does liberty exist so strongly as 
among the animals and in the heart of nature. 
From wilderness life to the simple country life, 
and then up through the life of a great city 
liberty gradually decreases. 

"At gold's superior charm all freedom flies, 
The needy sell it and the rich man buys." 

The top-notch of society has the least liberty 
in the world, being bound hand and foot to a 
rigid social code. 

Instead of frightening a child with visions 
of giants, why not tell him that there is not an 
animal in the north woods that will voluntarily 
attack him? Of course a bear with a cub will 
attack a man if she is molested; if let alone she 
will run away in peace. 

Deer and moose never fight unless cornered. 
Even the wild-cat will slink away to the under- 
brush at the sound of a man's footfall. A 
hunger-enraged wolf will never dare approach 
a fire. Fire is protection from any animal. 

All kinds of dogs will come up to me. They 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 99 

seem to know instinctively that I am their 
friend. I don't care how cross a dog is, I can 
readily make friends with him. 

There is an interesting thing about a cross 
dog. Someone tells someone else that a man 
named Smith has a cross dog. When that some- 
one else passes Smith's house the dog comes out 
and barks at him and he immediately becomes 
terror-stricken. If the man had felt no fear, 
and paid no attention to him, that dog would 
have stopped barking. The mere ignoring 
of the animal would have created an abnormal 
curiosity in his dog-mind and he would have 
begun to sniff around the man's legs. 

Even then, if I were that man, I would not 
have talked to that dog. I would have been ab- 
solutely indifferent toward him, and he would 
immediately have realized that I was his master. 

Don't think for a moment that you can 
say to any ugly dog "Nice doggy" in a voice 
that is quavering with fear and get away with 
it! The dog won't pay any attention to the 
"nice doggy" part, but he will scent that fear. 

There was one saucy chipmunk that used to 
come and visit me daily at my Bear Moun- 
tain lean-to. He would chatter with me, fill 
his chops with bits of food, and scurry away 
to bury them. Sometimes he would come 



100 ALONE m THE WILDERNESS 

around three or four times a day. He paid 
no more attention to me, as far as being afraid 
of me was concerned, than as if I were not there. 

One day, while I was cooking some trout, I 
heard an awful disturbance around the back 
of my lean-to. I investigated, and found 
a furious battle going on between a red squirrel 
and my friend the chipmunk. The big red 
squirrel had trespassed on the chipmunk's 
stamping ground, and, of course, that would 
never do. It was a dreadful fight for little 
fellows to be engaged in. Around and around 
they tore, through the leaves, under the tangle, 
over fallen trunks, up the trees and down again. 
Occasionally they came together, and then 
nothing could be seen but one flying ball of 
fur. Getting apart again, they would rest a 
second, panting, before resuming the contest. 

Swish! They were at it again, and another 
wild scene would be repeated. In the end that 
spunky little chipmunk actually beat the red 
squirrel and drove him off! 

After that the red squirrel used to come 
around every day, and from a distance would 
scream and scold at the chipmunk — (the 
red squirrel has a sort of bark). Then he 
would see me and begin to bark at me be- 
cause he knew I was friendly with the chip- 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 101 

munk. At this the chipmunk came right up to 
me and began to play around my feet, though 
I had never attempted to make friends with 
him. He made friends with me. 

I knew what went on in the minds of these 
Httle animals. 

An incident comes to my mind which hap- 
pened in this very country, a bit farther north, 
during my early trapping days. 

One spring morning, some years ago, another 
trapper and I had our breakfast on the slope 
of a mountainside. We were discussing the 
day's work ahead of us. 

After the meal he gave me a big steel bear 
trap and told me to take it along a certain 
trail leading south until I came to a big ledge. 
Then he directed me to go up on to this ledge 
and look to the west. "There you will see a 
big oak tree that you can't miss," he said, 
"and at the foot of that tree you will find a 
bear house. That is where you will set your 
trap." 

I walked briskly along and presently came 
to the ledge he had spoken of. I climbed 
to the top, and, sure enough, there was the 
oak tree all right. I discovered the bear house, 
and starting toward it I beheld a spike-horn 
moose standing twenty feet away, headed in 



102 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

my direction. He was looking straight at me 
and never moved. I too stood perfectly still. 
I could see that the old fellow was puzzling 
his head. He was wondering about me. He 
waited for me to do something. Both of his 
ears were pointed toward me. After a few 
moments, he moved one of his ears backward 
and listened for sounds behind him. 

Up to this time I had not moved. Presently 
I noticed that he moved his head a little and 
threw back both ears. He was saying to him- 
self, "I don't feel very comfortable here. This 
thing I see over there is an uncertainty. " Still 
there was not much fear in that moose's heart; 
I had not moved. 

It was interesting to watch him. I thought, 
"I wonder how near I can get to him before 
he moves away. " 

In a flash that moose knew what I was 
thinking of. He knew I was getting ready 
to do something. Yet I hadn't moved. He 
didn't know what I was going to do but he 
waited to see. 

Keeping my eye on him I carefully reached 
up to my shoulder and lifted off the trap chain. 
Still very cautiously I lowered the trap to the 
ledge beside me, but I did not move my feet 
or change my position. 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 103 

The moose had seen me do this, but he was 
not quite sure whether I had moved or not and 
was waiting there to see. 

Suddenly I made a quick bolt at him, and 
actually got within ten feet of him before he 
bounded off in another direction. I kept 
right after him at top speed and held my own. 
He was headed for the burnt lands. 

Plunging into a tangle his legs became caught 
and he was held fast. He was at my mercy. 
However, he didn't fear me in the slightest. 
He was ready to fight. The bristles on his 
back stood up as a kind of challenge. He 
made no effort to untangle himself, but just 
stood there and waited. 

I talked with him awhile and walked around 
him. I could see that he expected I was going 
to do something unlooked for. I kept on talk- 
ing to him, turning my head away from time 
to time and pretending to busy myself with 
something else. 

I could see the disposition of that moose 
change toward me. The bristles on his back 
began to go down. He probably said to him- 
self; ''This is a funny fellow. He chases me 
way out here, and then, when he has me caught, 
he does n't do a thing but stand there and talk 
tome!" 



104 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Then he began to pull his forelegs out of the 
tangle. When he got free he turned around 
and looked at me. I could see that I was a 
mystery to him. He didn't know what to 
make of me. 

Then he sauntered off as leisurely as if I 
had been nowhere around, stopping every 
few paces to gaze back at me. The foremost 
thought in that animal's mind was, "I can't 
fathom that!" All the way, until he disap- 
peared in the direction of the burnt lands, 
that moose turned around to watch me as I 
, stood there. Even after he had passed out of 
my sight I'll wager he watched for some little 
time through the trees. 

As in this instance of the moose, the thoughts 
of all other animals of the forest are easy to 
understand. The human being has the advan- 
tage because of his better developed brain. 
The man reasons logically; the animal in- 
stinctively. 

Without the slightest question the most 
interesting of all animals is the beaver. During 
my isolation I spent many hours watching 
these busybodies at work. Their constant 
industry and power to work without the slight- 
est waste are an inspiration. 

The beaver pond that I saw had once been 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 105 

nothing but a mountain stream. It was now a 
broad sheet of water and rightfully belonged 
to the beavers. 

Each year as their numbers increased they 
built their dam higher and stronger, so that 
it flooded more timberland. Thus these crea- 
tures had spread their field of operation, so 
that they would not have so far to drag their 
cuttings to the water. 

The beaver dam is everlasting. It stands for 
all time, growing stronger each year with the 
growth of vegetation planted by the seeds that 
are washed down in the current. Many ponds 
owe their origin to the beaver. 

So well done is the dam of the beavers' 
building that lumbermen require dynamite 
to blow out one of them to make a passage 
for their logs. 

As there is a limit to all things so there is a 
limit to the height of a beaver dam and the 
spreading surface of the water. When this 
point is reached, and the feed-wood is growing 
scarce along the banks, the beavers begin to mi- 
grate and leave their houses along the shore 
empty. 

Beavers travel in pairs, male and female 
together, each pair going in different directions 
over the mountainsides into the valleys. Here 



106 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

they start operations for themselves by con- 
structing dams across a stream or an outlet, 
or some spring in a country where wood is 
plentiful. 

When no beavers remain to keep a dam in 
repair the water settles in abandoned beaver 
ponds, and their drag roads become game trails. 
In summer the deer and the moose come down 
these. trails to feed on the tender bottom-grass. 

The beaver is intelligent and labor-saving. 
His system is equal to that of any human being. 
With him there is no waste of material or time, 
and, with the aid of nature, his work is always 
well done. From his first stick of feed-wood 
on, everything counts. 

He cuts down his tree with his sharp teeth, 
drags it to the water 's edge, and peels it. Usu- 
ally he selects trees from one to three inches 
in diameter, on the bank of his pond or stream 
above the dam. These he cuts into lengths of 
from four to eight feet. 

The beaver likes poplar best of all. After 
eating the bark he allows the peeled sticks to 
float downstream where they lodge on the dam. 
There they remain ready for use in repairing 
the dam or in building the beaver's house. 

Feed-wood will not float with the bark on. 
That is why beaver dams and houses are built 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 107 

of peeled sticks. Chinked with moss and stones 
both are firm and waterproof. 

When the time comes that the beaver must 
lay in his winter supply of food and bedding, 
he begins to cut such wood as he is able to handle 
and carry it to the water's edge. Holding the 
butt of the stick to keep it from sinking he 
swims to the entrance of his house. 

Diving into the water, the beaver then makes 
the butt secure in the muddy bottom, leaving 
the stick in an upright position with a portion 
protruding just above the water line. Stick after 
stick is deposited until the winter supply of 
feed-wood with bark and limbs is securely fas- 
tened in the mud, within easy reaching dis- 
tance from the entrance of his house, which is 
under water. 

When the cold weather comes the sticks are 
made more secure than ever as they are frozen 
in solid. Then the feeding from this store- 
house begins. The beaver dives from the en- 
trance of his house, swimming under the 
ice to his source of supply, where he cuts off 
a stick of feed-wood and returns to the house 
with it. After the bark is consumed for food, 
the stick is chewed into shreds like excelsior 
and used to make a nest for the family. 

The beaver house is most interesting. It 



108 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

is shaped like a beehive, with an airhole at the 
top, and is built on the shore with the entrance 
under water. Some of these houses have two 
or three stories, one on top of the other, the 
whole accommodating as many as ten beavers. 

Now among the beavers there are some who 
do not work. They are called "bank beavers," 
or "bankers." They live in the waters backed 
up by the dams of the workers, never doing 
anything themselves, and feeding upon the 
bark of woods that others cut. They never 
drag any wood for their own use. In winter, 
when ponds and streams are sealed with ice, 
they steal their food from the storehouse of the 
workers. These ''bankers" are always sleek, fat, 
well furred, and usually larger than the indus- 
trious beavers. The two never associate. This 
"banker," who is not self-sustaining, is not 
unlike one who leans wholly on others in human 
life. 

That afternoon, while I was watching the 
beavers after I had skinned my bear, I remem- 
bered how once, years before, I had been forced 
to sleep in a beaver's house. At the time I 
had been in the woods for weeks trapping, and 
was overtaken by a heavy snowstorm. Being 
far from camp, I knew that I must fmd some 
sort of a shelter at once. I was close to a beaver 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 109 

pond, and the sight of an abandoned beaver 
house gave me an idea. 

Not caring to use the front door, which was 
under water, I made an opening through 
the top, leaving a space for me to crawl in, and 
piled on some rough boughs and sticks for a 
roof. Once inside, I pulled the covering 
together securely and made myself comfortable 
for the night. 

Just as I had utilized the home of an animal 
in that blizzard, so did a black snake take ad- 
vantage of my Bear Mountain lean-to one 
night during my primitive life in the forest. 

Waking up one morning I felt something 
strange snuggled up close to my chin. Sitting 
up quickly caused a coiled black snake to slide 
from my breast down to the ground beside me. 
I should say he was about two and a half feet 
long. Evidently he was cold and had crawled 
in close to my sleeping body to get warm; 
I guess he had, for he wriggled away lively 
enough! 

During my entire two months I saw but few 
snakes. There are no rattlers in that part of 
the country, and the few other species are 
generally harmless. I saw the garter, the green, 
and the black snake, among others. 

People have asked me since my return why I 



110 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

didn't get some fox skins. In the first 
place I didn't absolutely need their skins, 
and, though I had already been obliged to 
break the game laws, I never did so unless im- 
pelled by dire necessity. 

I saw a red fox one morning, however, nosing 
around down by the spring. He didn't see 
me, so I made up my mind to have some 
fun with him. I commenced to squeak like a 
mouse. Raising his head quickly, he im- 
mediately began to creep toward the sound, 
with both ears alert for another squeak. I 
squeaked again and on he came. Then sud- 
denly he saw me move, and away he scudded 
into the bushes! 

I always have to laugh when these animals 
answer a squeak. Even standing out on a 
frozen pond in the open you can squeak a fox 
very close to you if you keep perfectly still. 
Like other inhabitants of the woods, unless he 
gets your scent he will take you for a stump or 
other part of the surroundings until you make a 
m.ovement. 

Had I had an ''at home" there in the wil- 
derness invitations would have been forwarded 
to the moose, deer, beaver, bear, wild-cat, otter, 
mink, squirrel, fox, rabbit, partridge, chipmunk, 
blue heron, loon, wild goose, wild duck, and 



WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 111 

hoot-owl — for they were all my neighbors and 
friends. 

As to the moose — I saw only three in my do- 
main, where ten years ago I would have seen 
at least fifty in two months' time! I have 
a story about two of these three moose. 



CHAPTER VIII 

FEVER AND THE BATTLE OF THE MOOSE 

Sleeping with one's back against the roots 
of a spruce blowdown in fair weather is not the 
worst thing in the world; but that morning 
when I awoke in the wilderness — the day 
after I had found the deer killed by the wild- 
cat — it was raining hard. The rain awakened 
me, and I was n 't particularly comfortable. 
Then, too, that mood of utter dejection was 
still hanging over me, which didn't help 
matters in the slightest. 

Digging down into my pack I found some 
dried raspberries, of which I ate sparingly. 

After breakfast I packed up my small deer- 
skin and bearskin and started off again along 
the natural game trail. I didn't select any 
special direction, but after walking for some 
time I saw that I was headed for what is known 
as the Horseshoe Country. 

This morning the feeling within me to give 
up the experiment was stronger than ever. 
I hated the woods, the world, and myself. 

112 



FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 113 

I walked on for miles, going wherever the 
path took me, until well into the afternoon, 
when I suddenly perceived that I was pretty 
well into a swamp. Desirous of getting as far 
away as possible I hadn't noticed where the 
trail was leading me. 

Thinking I could get through the bog all 
right I kept straight ahead; but my progress 
was so slow that I realized that darkness would 
soon overtake me. 

Night came on with a rush. I decided to 
pick out the driest place I could find and camp 
there for the night; but with the soggy condi- 
tion of the ground itself and the rain that was 
still falling it was impossible to find a dry spot. 

I attempted to make a fire, but after a quarter 
of an hour of the most discouraging work I had 
to give it up. 

By this time it was very dark, and I saw 
that something must be done. I couldn't 
stand there all night, neither could I rest on 
that soaking ground, so I started blindly through 
the tangles, sinking down into the mud and 
water at every other step. 

My pack hampered me greatly and I saw that 
I must get rid of it. I swung it off my back 
and hung it on to the limb of a dead cedar, 
and proceeded to spot the trail by breaking over 



114 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

limbs and underbrush. At daylight I planned 
to come back for my pack, because everything 
I possessed in the world just then was contained 
in it. 

On I went once more. I had an idea in my 
head that I must be close to the edge of the 
swamp, and so I struggled on instead of going 
back. It seemed as if, with every step, the 
footing became worse. It was laborious work. 
My feet would sink 'way down in the mud, 
so that when I drew them up it seemed as if 
there were weights attached to each foot. 

Time and again I would run into fallen timber 
and be forced to crawl under it. I didn't 
care to take the chance of stepping over it, for 
I was in my bare feet and was afraid of slipping. 

It began to get cold now and I realized how 
foolish I had been to leave that bearskin behind. 
I was naked. For the first time since entering 
the wilderness I was really suffering physically. 
Above all else I wanted a solid place to put my 
feet. Dragging them in and out of the mire 
was exhausting and I was getting very tired. 

I had n 't noticed it before, but it had stopped 
raining. The heavy clouds which had made it 
so dark in the swamp began to break away and 
occasionally the moon peeked out, weirdly 
outlining the fallen timber and tangle about me. 



FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 115 

But it was better than inky blackness, and I 
stumbled ahead. Then a cloud would obliterate^ 
the face of the moon, leaving me in total dark- 
ness again. A cold damp wind swept through 
the bog, chilling me through and through. 
If I could have run I wouldn't have minded 
it. 

Once when the moon came out again I saw 
some kind of a clearing in front of me. In 
the distance I could just make out the outline 
of higher land against the sky. With this goal 
in sight I increased my weary efforts. 

I had nearly reached the center of this open- 
ing on the dead cedars which were half buried 
in the grass and mud when I discovered in 
my path a dead stream. I followed along the 
mud-sogged bank, searching for a fallen tree 
where I might cross. Finally I found one, 
and was mighty thankful for it, as the footing 
was getting almost impossible. Carefully I 
began to walk over that fallen tree, and treach- 
erous footing it was, for the bark was as slip- 
pery as glass. I curled up my toes like a monkey 
to get a better hold, hoping that the moon 
would light my way until I got to the other side. 
But luck was not with me that night, for no 
sooner did hope of the moon enter my head 
than a black shadow fell across my path. Inky 



116 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

blackness again settled down over the wilder- 
ness, leaving me helpless. 

I tried to stand perfectly still to get my 
bearings, but suddenly the bark under my feet 
seemed to slip and I was thrown into the 
mud and water below. I remember, as I 
rose to my knees, I felt as if I didn't care 
what happened. I was weary in body and 
mind, but I kept on struggling. 

It took every ounce of strength I had left to 
get my legs out of the mud and crawl back on 
to the log. I waited for the moon again, but 
it didn't appear, so I commenced to crawl 
along on my hands and knees to the other 
end of the log. 

Finally I reached the other side. Over there, 
what was my dismay to find that the mud was 
even worse. Then I discovered that I was on a 
floating bog! I knew it would be useless to 
go on, so I again crawled back over the log. 
Struggling back to the big bog I had just left 
I found a place under some scrub spruce and 
cedars where I waited for the morning light. 

It was the longest night I ever spent, and 
when morning finally dawned I was — to use 
a familiar expression — "all in." 

The mere realization that I could move my- 
self around without fear of tripping over 



FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 117 

some fallen tree gave me courage to go back 
through the swamp in search of my pack. 
After a short tramp through the mud I came 
upon signs of my spotted trail, and presently 
found the dead cedar on which it hung. 

That night found me with a good fire in 
my lean-to on the northwest side of Bear 
Mountain. More from exhaustion than any- 
thing else I dropped into a deep sleep, but it 
was not a restful one. 

I awoke in the darkness, burning up with 
heat. I threw my bearskin covering to one side 
for relief. My head was splitting. I was 
sick. I began to have chills and I reached for 
my bearskin and threw it over me. Then I felt 
as if I were on fire again. 

"It's all off now, for sure," I muttered to 
myself. "I'll make a try to get to King and 
Bartlett's in the morning." 

All the rest of the night I thrashed around 
on my bed of moss and boughs. 

I began to wonder if I was going to lose my 
mind. 

When daylight came at last, I tried to get up. 
I felt light-headed, and my head ached dread- 
fully. 

Aching all over I finally gathered myself 
together and made my way down the trail 



118 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

in the direction of King andBartlett's. I was 
going out of the wilderness; I had fully deter- 
mined upon that. 

I would walk a little distance, and then, feel- 
ing too badly to go on, would sit down with my 
back against a tree to rest. It did n't seem as 
if I could go very much farther. 

The thought came confusedly into my mind 
that it was September. Anyway, I had stayed 
until September! 

Presently I started off again. I could not 
see very clearly. Nevertheless I could hear 
perfectly well, for the next moment I heard 
an awful racket off the trail to my left. 

Curiosity cleared my brain, and temporarily 
I forgot my own condition. There was a fallen 
tree just ahead, which I walked up to and then 
stopped, for just a little way beyond a crotch- 
horn moose and a big bull moose were engaged 
in a terrific struggle. 

Watching them draw apart, only to come 
together again with mighty impact, smashing 
the branches of the trees and tearing up the 
underbrush, the excitement made me com- 
pletely forget myself. 

That was the most terrible battle I ever saw 
between animals in the forest. Evidently 
they had been fighting for some time, for 



FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 119 

they were bleeding badly and breathing 
heavily. 

The last charge had resulted in a clinch, and 
already the big bull moose was drawing back 
for another rush. Lowering his head he made 
a savage plunge. The younger moose cleverly 
sidestepped the attack, and as the big ani- 
mal crashed by he drove his sharp spikes into 
his neck with fearful force. 

Down they went to the ground together. 

Being the more active, the young moose 
recovered his footing first, striking out savagely 
with his forefeet at his rising foe. Then the 
big bull staggered to his feet. A huge gash in 
his neck showed red. With shaggy mane brist- 
ling and lowered head, he prepared for another 
charge. 

The young moose was apparently fighting 
on the defensive. He evaded rush after rush 
and retaliated with hoofs and horns, tearing 
gash after gash in the head and body of his 
aggressive enemy. -v. 

Sometimes it was a running fight. At 
others, they would rear on their hind legs, fall 
into a clinch, lock horns and during the 
struggle continually surge against the saplings 
and dry cedars, breaking them down with a 
crash and tearing up the ground around them. 



120 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

I think in an affair of this kind it is natural 
for any man to take sides. I took sides with 
the young moose. The big bull was forcing 
the fight, and I hoped to see him beaten. 

They paid no attention to me, however, 
and once even came within twenty feet of 
where I was standing. 

After awhile the big fellow got the crotch- 
horn down, and began to gore his side fright- 
fully. I yelled, and, picking up a club, hurled 
it at the bull. He threw up his head, panting, 
and stood looking straight at me. 

In an instant the young moose was on its 
feet and away. Then the big moose whirled 
about and followed after him. 

Completely forgetting my sickness, I threw 
down my pack and went after them. At first 
I thought they were running away from me, 
but just then the crotch-horn dashed into a 
thicket of saplings through which the big 
bull tried to follow. The trees, however, 
were not spread wide enough apart to admit 
the broad antlers, and so the big fellow was 
hung up in fine style. 

Then you should have seen that young 
moose! He turned like a flash, rushed back 
with lowered head, and thrashed that big 
bull in terrible fashion. It gouged him again 




A M 






FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 121 

and again, besides drawing fresh blood with his 
hoofs. Rising on his hind legs he would strike 
with all his strength with his front feet. 

The repeated blows staggered the big moose 
and he fought frantically to free himself. This 
he managed to do after a time, and bellowing 
at the top of his lungs he made for the young 
moose, who sidestepped and dashed away again. 

The crotch-horn was foxy, for he would choose 
the narrow places, thus constantly slowing up 
the big bull. So the nimble one got quite a 
ways ahead for a start. 

Presently they disappeared off through the 
trees, going in a different direction from the 
one I was traveling; so I turned back toward 
the game trail. 

About an hour afterwards I caught sight of 
that young moose some distance ahead of me, 
walking off into the woods. He was saunter- 
ing along as independent as could be. The 
big bull was nowhere to be seen. I honestly 
believe that the two had come together again 
in a battle to the death, and that the young 
one had conquered. 

With the excitement over, the effects of the 
fever — for it was a fever — returned. I lay 
down by the side of the trail and tried to sleep, 
but I could not, though I didn't feel cold. 



122 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

I got to my feet again, feeling so badly that I 
thought I was going to lose my head. 

The idea of my leaving the woods did not 
enter my mind just then. I said to myself/' I 
will go down near the camps so that if I do go 
out of my head they will fmd me, sooner or later, 
and take care of me. " I reasoned also that 
if I found myself getting worse and was in 
the proximity of the camp, I might have 
strength enough left to fmd my own way there. 

It was a long journey, and I don 't remember 
a good part of it. However, as I neared the 
camp, my mood changed somewhat. Some- 
how I didn't quite want to give the experiment 
up, and yet at the same time I did. I was pretty 
close to the camp, and occasionally could hear 
voices; but I was well out of sight. 

Resolving to try and stick it out a little longer, 
I lay down and tried to sleep again. I became 
dazed and did n 't seem to want to move. 

Then darkness descended. 

The first thing I remembered after that was 
hearing a little noise close beside mc on the 
trail. I made no effort to sec what it was. I 
was too sick to care. 

Presently I felt some animal sniffing me over. 
It was a dog! Had it been a man I should have 
spoken to him. It was an Airedale terrier. 



fevi:r and battle of moose 123 

belonging to Harry Pierce of the King and Bart- 
Ictt Camps. 

The dog remembered me. He was tickled to 
death to see me. I spoke to him and he could n 't 
get close enough to me. In his enthusiasm he 
sprawled all over me. 

After the preliminary greeting the dog be- 
came quiet, and lay down beside me with his 
back against the bearskin. 

Then I fell asleep. I must have slept well, 
for when I awoke my headache had disap- 
peared. So had the dog. I felt better in every 
way. I could see things from the right point of 
view. 

After moving around a bit, I said to myself, 
"I guess I won't give up to-day." 

Presently the dog came trotting along down 
the trail again. I talked with him for awhile, 
and then turned back into the woods. I walked 
on and on until I came to the side of Black 
Nubble. Evidently the dog had gone back to 
the camp. 

On the slope of Black Nubble I threw up a 
little shelter, and all day long I lay around there. 

The next day I felt a great deal better, so 
much so in fact that I did n't entertain an idea 
of giving the experiment up. Early in the morn- 
ing I headed for the Plorseshoe Country again. 



124 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

That fever was my only sickness during the 
entire two months, I took no barks or medi- 
cines I might have thought of in the forest, 
for I considered that the fresh air, which is al- 
ways laden with health-giving properties, was 
sufficient. It proved to be. 

The civilized world is inclined, I believe, to 
be medicine mad. 

In the event of a severe headache the general 
tendency of the civilized man or woman is to 
go to bed, if possible, rather than to go out 
into God's fresh sunshine and air. 

Instead of permitting nature to be the doctor, 
free of charge, they immediately send for the 
human doctor. 

In nine cases out of ten where minor ailments 
are concerned the mere idea that a doctor has 
been in attendance is the basis of the cures 
rather than the cures actually coming from 
the medicine itself. Physicians are far more 
successful in effecting cures with sympathy 
than they are with medicine. 

Women especially are constantly visiting 
their doctors for nothing more than sympathy 
when very little really ails them. 

The great outdoors with its woods and sea 
and sunshine and fresh air is the real road to 
health. Nature is indeed the great physician. 



FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 125 

The mere fact that countless advertisements 
of patent medicines are constantly appearing 
in the newspapers all over the country proves 
that the people are still using such concoctions 
in large quantities. The patent-medicine 
companies are not paying for advertising for 
the fun of it; these advertisements bring in 
the business. 

It would seem, therefore, with this constant 
flood of worthless, so-called medicine pouring 
into our social life that something is wrong with 
our living. 

There is n 't a countryside in all New England 
but where, from a railroad window, you can 
see some old barn — and usually every old barn 
in sight — painted black, with blood purifiers 
and liver cures advertised thereon in mammoth 
letters of blazing red and gold. 

The systematic outdoor life is a sure safeguard 
against disease, and when it is universally prac- 
ticed by all, the contracting and spreading of 
sickness will be materially lessened. Under 
such conditions the patent-medicine concerns 
would have to go out of business. 

Since coming back among my friends I have 
often thought of how I completely forgot my 
sick and weary condition while watching that 
battle between the crotch-horn and the big bull 



126 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

moose out there in the forest. It only empha- 
sizes a belief I have always maintained regarding 
how much the mind has to do with physical 
aches and pains. 

During that conflict in the woods my mind 
was wholly taken up with the combat itself. 
There was no room left in that mind to think 
of my physical self. Therefore, so far as I was 
able to feel, I was perfectly well. 

I mention this because once again the out- 
door life plays its part. It is fresh air that makes 
rich red blood; and it is rich red blood that 
makes a healthy brain. A healthy brain does 
not recognize sickness. 

My idea of perfect health is when a man 
can absolutely forget that he has a stomach, 
a throat, or any other part of his body that 
is apt to be troublesome. 

With that one exception of fever caught in 
the swamp I was in perfect health during my 
two months in the wilderness. When I came 
out of the forest I was not only improved phys- 
ically, but my mind was improved, in spite 
of the fact that I had not come in contact with 
a human soul. 



CHAPTER IX 

ANIMAL STUDIES 

In the wilderness the one great law is the 
survival of the fittest. This law applies from 
the very lowest of vegetable life up through 
the various stages of animal life in the forest. 
I observed this over and over again while I 
was in the woods. 

The thousands of little seeds that fall from 
the big trees to the ground take root and proceed 
to grow. Soon they spring up like a soft 
green carpet. 

It is interesting to note at the very start that 
it would be impossible for all these tiny seeds 
to mature inasmuch as there would not be 
room enough for them all in the wilderness. 
Some have to be sacrificed. It is the inevitable 
law. One plant grows up sturdier than another, 
and the big ones crowd out the little ones, so 
that they cannot receive the nutriment they 
need. These weaker specimens of growth 
perish. They fulfill their part by enriching 
the earth for the stronger ones, by the process 
of decay. 

127 



128 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Then along comes the animal, destroying 
plants by feeding upon them. Some escape 
total annihilation, and perhaps grow into tall 
trees, rising up, up, up toward the sunlight 
which is so necessary to their growth. 

Here again the rugged tree pushes the weaker 
tree back into the shade. It is only the fittest 
that survives. 

The same may be said of animals. A little 
mink runs nimbly alongside the brook and 
spies a partridge on a low limb of a tree. He 
darts at it, catches it, and kills it. Just then a 
wild-cat sneaks out of the bushes toward him. 
Being the stronger, the cat has little difficulty 
in robbing the mink of the bird. But while 
he is feasting on the partridge, a hunter comes 
along down the trail. The hunter is not only 
bigger and stronger than the wild-cat, but he has 
a more powerful brain. He also has a gun, so 
he kills the creature. 

Taking this same idea out into the civilized 
world let us suppose that the hunter just men- 
tioned had been a woodsman all his life. He 
goes to the city for the first time to do some 
business. Being unused to city ways, and men- 
tally weaker in regard to business methods in 
vogue, he would easily fall a victim to an un- 
equal trade, just as the Indians always received 



ANIMAL STUDIES 129 

the worst of it at the hands of the whites years 
ago. 

It was the survival of the fittest that gave us 
this great country of ours. There were some 
things which the Indians could do that the 
white men could not do, but the white men had 
the more highly developed brains and the 
improved weapons, which had come as a result 
of trained minds, so the combination van- 
quished the Indians. 

Just as this law applies to all nature, so does 
it concern our whole life. Capital and labor are 
but another example. 

In the lives of the creatures that inhabit 
the wilderness there are great lessons for us to 
learn. And the study is tremendously [interest- 
ing. 

While I had always made more or less of a 
study of animals during my various experiences 
in the woods, the two months that I lived as 
one of them gave me insight into their ways and 
habits which I shall never forget. 

There is no question in my mind as to whether 
or not animals have souls. Of course they have 
souls! If you have ever lived alone in the 
wilderness you will thoroughly believe that 
they do. 

Ask any man who has spent much of his 



130 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

time in the forest to tell you some of the interest- 
ing things animals have done. Ask him about 
the squirrels he has watched, or the birds on 
certain trees that have sung and whistled to 
him. Ask him about a moose with a couple of 
calves, who have frequently passed him by 
without paying the slightest attention to 
him. They know who 's who — these wood 
creatures — and can size up a man much better 
than a human being can size up one of his own 
kind. To them such a man is only another 
animal like themselves. It is not necessary 
for the man to speak to an animal in order 
to establish an understanding. 

If I could only live about twice the time 
allotted to the human race it would be the 
height of my ambition to go back to the woods, 
where, in perfect harmony, I could come to 
understand more about all these living wild 
creatures. I am confident that a complete 
understanding would eventually arise between 
man and animal. 

The Almighty has given his wood creatures 
lots of things he did not give to man. P'or in- 
stance, take the movements of the ears of the 
deer. Perhaps you come upon it unawares. 
It stops short and starts quickly away from 
you. For a second both cars are inclined toward 



ANIMAL STUDIES 131 

you; then you will suddenly see one of those 
ears go back. The turning of that one ear back- 
ward is its only protection from danger behind 
it. A human being can't flop one ear forward 
and the other backward at the same time. 

Instead, God has given man a higher brain. 

Again, a human being cannot smell out the 
track of an animal; but man has other faculties 
which will more than outweigh this power 
of scent in wood creatures. If man possessed 
the power of scent he would be so superior to 
the animal that the poor creature wouldn't 
have the slightest chance to protect itself. 
With this scent the man would know just 
where the animal was the minute he entered the 
woods, 

I do not think the average man or woman 
realizes how foxy and tricky an animal can 
be. I have met wild animals that I know can 
outwit and fool the most intelligent human 
being in the world. 

After the first fall of snow in the hunting 
season when tracking is perfect no animal 
can move in the wilderness without leaving a 
trail. Anyone who knows the woods and ani- 
mals can judge the character of an animal by 
its tracks, just as it is possible to tell the char- 
acter of a man by the signature of his pen. 



132 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Like many others who have lived a great 
deal in the forest, I understand the tracks of 
animals. If I strike a deer track in the snow 
I can tell by that track, without catching a 
glimpse of the deer, just how far ahead of me 
it is and what it intends to do. I know whether 
or not the creature is aware that someone is 
following on its trail. I can tell whether it is 
a female or a male, and how large the animal is. 

An animal moves and acts in different ways 
in different conditions of weather. I have made 
a study of these peculiarities. 

With a thorough understanding of tracks, 
a hunter or trapper is able to leave the tracks 
themselves and go in another direction, know- 
ing full well that he will either head off the 
creature or come again upon its tracks by the 
short cut. In this way he is able to creep up 
on a deer or a moose a whole mile by diverging, 
perhaps, the tenth of a mile. The experienced 
woodsman knows perfectly well without seeing 
it at all, whether the animal will swing to the 
right or left. 

When a track stops in places and zigzags 
around, it is an indication that the animal has 
been feeding. Whenever I come upon a track 
like that I always stop and wait and listen 
before going ahead again. The creature ahead 



ANIMAL STUDIES 133 

likewise waits from time to time and listens 
intently. It is always conscious of its back 
tracks after the first fall of snow, and watches 
them carefully. A man has got to be mighty 
clever to follow an animal even on the snow. 
However, it can be done. 

It is interesting to note the character of 
the tracks of a deer when it is getting ready 
to find a place to lie down. The deer will go 
on until it reaches a high spot, where it will 
lie down, whether it be fair or stormy, at 
the foot of a spruce or cedar, and always with 
its head facing its back tracks. The lay of 
the land will tell you when you are approaching 
such a resting place. Nine times out of ten, 
when you are following such a track, you startle 
the deer, though you never see it. It had made 
too clever preparations. 

A deer makes it a point to be in a position to 
see you long before you are able to catch a 
glimpse of it, and a sight of you is a sign for 
the deer to be off in a hurry. Not that they are 
watching for human beings all the time — they 
do not know whether the creature following 
them is a person or an animal. But they are 
always on the alert for the wild-cat — their 
greatest enemy. Deer listen all the time 
for the wild-cat, which can steal through the 



134 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

woods without a sound. No matter how big 
a deer is, a wild-cat will always take a chance. 

Now a word of explanation as to how a 
man can determine certain things from the 
trail of an animal. To tell the size of the 
creature that has just gone on before him, one 
doesn't have to study its tracks. He studies 
the trees and saplings along the trail and 
watches for places where the bark is rubbed. 
A big bull moose, for instance, cannot go be- 
tween trees that are not wide apart. He al- 
ways rubs the bark as he passes his antlers 
through. If these rubs on the bark are high 
up you know that the animal is a good-sized 
fellow. 

The freshness of the tracks will tell you about 
how far ahead the animal is. 

After following a deer for a few miles you 
will well establish in your mind the general 
direction it is journeying. If the tracks swing 
to the right, apparently undisturbed, this swing 
can be accounted for by the lay of the land. 
A deer is never anxious to climb hills. If there 
is a hill ahead you know that the deer will 
not climb it unless it is absolutely necessary. 
It will select the easiest trail, turning, therefore, 
to the left or right of that hill. 

Perhaps this particular section of the conn- 



ANIMAL STUDIES 135 

try has been used for a natural game trail for 
the past fifteen years. The experienced woods- 
man knows whether or not it turns to the 
right or left of that hill, so he can figure 
out about where the trail will appear some- 
where farther along. That is where the hunter 
takes his short cut and heads the trail off, so 
to speak. Presently he comes across the tracks 
again, and they are much fresher. He is nearer 
the animal. 

However, the animal is not asleep all this 
time. Perhaps it has become aware that it is 
being followed. Then starts a battle of cun- 
ning between the man and the deer. 

Assuming that progress is hard for the deer, 
and that it realizes only too well that the man 
is gaining, time and time again it will make 
a quick circle to the right or left, going right 
around you, and, taking up its own back tracks 
again, follow you at a safe distance. 

Presently the hunter comes to the back tracks 
again and realizes he has been outwitted! 

In the meantime the deer goes along the back 
tracks for some distance, finally giving a big 
jump off toward the timberlands where it 
makes good its getaway. 

Bears are even more tricky. 

During my two months' experiment I saw 



136 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

in all seven or eight bears. The northern Maine 
country is full of them. 

Sometimes when I went up onto high places 
where I could get a good view of the surround- 
ing territory I would see bears in the distance. 
Once, in the burnt lands, I saw two or three 
grouped together, feeding on berries. 

The bear is classified as a sleeper. In the 
fall bears den up and do not come out again 
until spring. Coming forth from their long 
winter's sleep they are lank and hungry, and 
immediately start hunting for anything in the 
way of food. They will eat almost anything 
they come across. 

Bears go to the ponds and streams and fish 
for trout; and when the berries begin to ripen 
in the burnt lands and clearings, they eat their 
fill. They are such gluttons that they will 
hang around those berry bushes until they are 
scarcely able to move from overfeeding. And 
they never leave the berry country until the 
berries are all cleaned out. 

When the frost of fall comes along bears 
change their diet to nuts and acorns, which 
means their moving farther in among the trees. 

Bears are the worst scavengers of the north 
woods, because they are ready to devour 
anything and everything. Carrion is a luxury 



ANIMAL STUDIES 137 

to them; and stale fish, such as I baited my 
bear trap with, is one of their favorite dishes. 

It is a difficult thing to know just what bears 
are going to do next. They often eat 'one an- 
other, and will even consume their own pups! 

As an example of the appetite of a bear I am 
going to relate to you a true northern Maine 
woods bear story. 

An Indian guide, whom I have known 
for years, was conducting a party of prominent 
New York sportsmen through the forest. Be- 
sides other kinds of hunting they had set several 
bear traps at different points along the way. 

Revisiting one of these traps a day later, 
they found it gone. The Indian guide, who, 
by the way, was a bear expert, after making a 
short investigation, made an interesting dis- 
covery. The New York sportsmen who had 
hunted for years could see that the clog had 
been broken and they also noticed that there 
were bear tracks leading off toward the north. 

However, the Indian guide saw more than 
that. He saw other tracks mixed up with those 
of the bear that had been caught in the trap. 
He also discerned that these tracks belonged 
to another bear, and that this other bear 
had but three legs. Careful observation showed 
the mark of the stump in the ground. 



138 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Then the guide explained to the sportsmen 
that the three-legged bear was after the bear 
in the trap, and that if they did n't hurry they 
wouldn't find either one. The men laughed 
at him good-humoredly, but ^his seriousness 
made them hit up their pace. 

Following those tracks for an hour, they 
presently arrived at the foot of a high spruce 
where they found the trap and the half-eaten 
carcass of a bear, with its skin entirely ripped 
off. 

The sportsmen were amazed. Hidden signs 
plainly told the tragedy of a battle to the death 
to the Indian guide. Then he pointed out to 
the men how the trapped bear had dragged the 
heavy log clog and trap after him, while being 
chased through the woods by the three-legged 
bear to this spruce tree. He vowed that in 
an effort to shake off his tormentor the bear had 
climbed a tree, still dragging the ten-foot log clog 
after him. Broken branches showed that the 
chase had led to the highest branches, fully 
thirty feet in the air, and that there a mad 
battle had occurred, which resulted in the 
crashing of the two animals to the ground below. 
In the subsequent fight the smaller bear, 
attached to the trap clog, was killed. 

The whole affair had happened within about 



ANIMAL STUDIES 139 

an hour's time, for signs at the place where 
the trap had been set originally showed that 
the animals had only been gone a few minutes. 

After the battle the three-legged bear had 
skinned his enemy and gobbled half the carcass. 

Perhaps one of the most remarkable features 
about this story is the fact that the trapped 
bear, not weighing himself a great deal over 
seventy-five pounds, had dragged that heavy 
clog attached to his trapped foot across country 
and then up a spruce tree. 

The bear is afraid of human beings. He is 
a great coward. A child could frighten one 
badly. _ 

Unless a person interferes with them on 
their own grounds in the mating season bears 
are practically harmless. At other times they 
will run away from you. 

Speaking of greediness brings to mind one 
interesting phase of my experience with animals 
and birds during my two months' isolation. 
It concerns the moose bird, which is commonly 
known as the Canadian jay. These birds were 
literally a nuisance to me. They first made 
their appearance shortly after I had killed 
my bear. A pair of them came and scolded 
at me from a nearby tree. 

I could n't lay down a piece of meat for one 



140 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

minute but that they would dart down and 
snatch it away. If I was not on the alert they 
would snatch it from under my very hand. 

After a little the two grew to four, and at 
one time I had ten of these birds watching my 
every move. From time to time I had given 
them scraps; but I realized I must put a stop 
to it or else be bothered to death. 

The days had been passing rapidly by, and 
no longer fearing molestation from men in 
the Lost Pond district I returned there. 

In the meantime I had been living any- 
where in the forest, sleeping in the open or 
under rude shelters, thrown together in a mo- 
ment. 

My cedar-bark leggings had long since worn 
out, and I traveled about during the daytime 
with absolutely nothing on. I didn't need 
protection for my legs now, for they had become 
as tough as leather. 

When I reached my old lean-to I found I 
was practically out of food, so I was obliged 
to go on another foraging expedition. When 
you have obtained things once it never seems 
very difficult to get them another time. I 
soon rounded up some more trout, driving them 
from the big pools into my own small artificial 
pools. 




A BIRCII-BARK MESSAGE TO THE OTITSIDE WORLD, WRITTEN BY THE 
AUTHOR IN THE WOODS WITH BURNT STICKS FROM HIS FIRES 



ANIMAL STUDIES 141 

September was passing away, but the bears 
had not entirely cleaned out all the berries. 
I managed to find enough to supply my needs. 
I never went hungry. 

Each night I slept about six hours, and found 
that this was all the sleep I required. 

I had a desire to accomplish some one 
big thing while I lived in the wilderness and 
the biggest thing I could think of was to paint 
a picture in color right there in the forest. 
How I went about this task I will tell in a 
later chapter. This idea took complete pos- 
session of me. I figured out how I could get 
my color, my brushes, and even paper right 
out of the material at hand in the woods. 
Then I set about making experiments. 

In my enthusiasm I often forgot to eat. 

This ambition helped me mentally, and I 
did not suffer so much with thoughts of the 
outside world while the idea held me. 

Finally I found that I was neglecting myself. 
I was getting thin. Out of sheer necessity I 
was forced to look after myself and let other 
things go. 

I contented myself with writing an occasional 
message on birch bark for the outside world, 
or drawing a charcoal sketch on the same ma- 
terial. 



142 ALONE IN THE WILDEKMESS 

At least once a week, no matter how far out 
in the wilderness I might have wandered, I 
made a trip to the cache to leave my messages. 
Once I left a pair of cedar-bark shoes, which 
I had discarded. I wondered what people 
would think of them. 

Each morning I had no idea where I would 
be at night. Some nights found me at Big 
Spencer, others at my lean-to on Bear Moun- 
tain, and occasionally I went back into the woods 
near Lost Pond. 

Twice, out of necessity when I was hungry, 
I was forced to shoot a squirrel with my bow 
and arrow. I roasted the meat, and it was good 
eating. 

Many times I saw rabbits, but I made no 
effort to trap them. I did n't need them. But 
necessity compelled me to bring down several 
partridges. While I caught a few with the slip 
noose, as I have already described, I shot quite 
a number with my bow and arrow. The arrow 
would go clear through the bird and pin it to 
the ground. 

Already the woods began to show signs of the 
approaching fall. Splashes of brilliant color 
on the foliage gave relief from the constant 
monotony of green and black. An occasional 
light frost made the air wonderfully invigor- 



ANIMAL STUDIES 143 

ating. Even during such days I needed no 
covering. My skin was so tanned and inured 
to the weather that I did not feel the cold. 
At night I had my bearskin. 

One day, while strolling along the trail, I 
found a deer horn, which evidently had been 
shed the year before. Its peculiar shape gave 
me visions of a crude knife, so I began labo- 
riously to scrape it. First I filed the horn in 
two by means of a sharp rock. Then I filed off 
one sharp prong and ground the blade to a keen 
edge with other stones. 

In order to make a good grip I stripped the 
inner lining from the outer covering of some 
birch bark, which has the appearance of thin 
raffia. With this fine shred a fairly substantial 
cord can be woven. I wound the handle of 
my new knife with this cord. 

Later on I found another horn, but I did n't 
utilize it, simply carrying it around for 
luck. 

My horn knife proved most practical and 
useful. It would easily cut meat, and later 
when I made my clothing it came in handy. 

I was growing to be more and more a part of 
the forest every day. Whenever I needed any- 
thing I simply went and hunted for it. It was 
always waiting for me somewhere. 



144 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Even the mental side was losing its grip 
on me. 

I was, in truth, a primitive man. I had gone 
back from the land of civilization to the forest 
of antiquity. 



CHAPTER X 

KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 

Sometimes we accomplish things before we 
reahze it. The story of my getting a deer is 
very much like this. The incident happened 
just before dark while I was walking along a 
little trail close to the shore of a small pond. 

Suddenly I heard a noise in the water ahead 
of me. I stopped still, and presently heard 
the noise again. Then I walked on toward 
the shore until I reached an old spruce tree, 
whose roots were growing up on one side of the 
trail. Of course, any game going through the 
water to drink had to avoid these roots. 

All around me was a thicket of spruce and 
cedar. From where I stood I could see quite an 
opening down toward the water. First I 
noticed ripples on the water, and then a little 
farther out I saw a young spike-horn buck 
feeding on the bottom grass. 

When I first saw him I did not have the slight- 
est idea of catching him. The thought never 
entered my head. 

145 



146 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

I knew that if the deer were frightened he 
would run in the opposite direction from the 
sound that startled him. The wind was blowing 
from him to me, so he could not get my scent. 
I picked up a piece of spruce root and threw 
it out over the deer's back into the water. 
The animal threw up his head, looked around 
in all directions, and then started out of the 
water up the trail toward me. 

I picked up a stone and threw this out into 
the water, the second splash starting him along 
farther toward the root behind which I was 
hiding. 

Carefully judging the time and distance, as 
soon as he got opposite me I caught him by 
the forward feet and down he fell in the trail. 
Then I caught him by the horns, and with my 
weight on his back I got control of him. I 
gave a quick twist and broke his neck. 

I want to apologize for killing the deer in 
that manner, but, under the circumstances, 
it was the only way I had. I needed the skin 
badly. 

It was so dark now I decided not to skin him 
that night. I pulled the body up a little to one 
side of the trail, and left it there until morn- 
ing. 

Back at my camp that night I stirred up my 



KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 147 

banked fire and sat down to think. I didn't 
give the deer much thought. I said to my- 
self, "Now I've got another skin." It was a 
small deer, but if I did n't waste too much 
of the skin making moccasins I would have 
enough, with bearskin and deerskin I had 
taken from the wild-cats, to cover myself 
completely. 

The next day I went and got this skin. Be- 
sides it, I took some meat and all the sinew 
back to my camp. Some of the meat I ate, 
some I dried, and some I kept in the spring 
for several days where it would be cold. 

Then I started to work making my wilder- 
ness suit of clothes. First I made my buck- 
skin chaps. I doubled the skin and wound it 
around my thigh to see if it would be big 
enough to go around. I found that it would, 
but that it would not be quite long enough. 
However, with the other deerskin I could add 
pieces to lengthen it. 

After shaping the chaps I put the skins on to 
a piece of wood and began punching holes 
along the edge with the sharp point of a deer 
horn. These I laced together with strips of 
rawhide. 

I made my moccasins by first wetting the raw- 
hide and putting my foot on it to get the 



148 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

length. I used two pieces for each moccasin, 
turning the bottom piece up a little and stitch- 
ing it to the top piece while it was on my foot. 
This raised the stitching above the ground 
where it would not wear out. When the wet 
rawhide dried they were a perfect fit. 

Whenever I wore the bearskin I slung it 
over my shoulder and held it together in 
front with thongs. 

There was nothing wonderful about killing 
that deer. Many people have seemed to marvel 
about that incident, and some, not under- 
standing the woods, have openly doubted the 
story. To anyone who knows the ways and 
habits of animals such a thing would not seem 
wonderful. Those who have hunted and lived 
among the wilds do not think so for a minute. 
It is really of such little importance that a man 
who understands such things would not even 
mention it. In fact, not until I had been out 
of the forest for nearly a week did I speak 
of the affair at all, and then only when I was 
asked to explain where I got my deer. 

Skepticism is based largely on ignorance. 
When a 'man hears something that he does 
not know about he is either broad-minded 
enough to learn more about it, or else an- 
nounces that he does not believe it at all. 



KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 149 

A man of the woods might ask you something 
like this: "Did you have a gun?" 

"No." 

"Well, that's pretty good. You were lucky 
to get your deer that way." He wouldn't 
ask any more questions because he would 
understand. He wouldn't ask you how the 
deer acted, because he would know how it 
acted. Nor would he ask how much strength 
was used, knowing how much strength was 
necessary to kill a deer in that manner. He 
would also know that if you saw a deer too 
big to handle you would not tackle it. 

Only a short time after I came from the 
woods I had occasion to talk with Chief Nicola 
of the old Penobscot tribe of Indians at Bangor, 
Maine, about a similar instance. He told me 
that he had killed a two-hundred-pound buck 
in a deer yard in the same way. He told the 
story as if it were a very ordinary occurrence, 
and no enthusiasm backed his words. The 
deer was caught by the antlers and thrown to 
the ground where the chief strangled him. 

In winter when the snow is deep the deer 
or moose has difficulty in getting about. They 
yard together, walking about in furrows worn 
by themselves. A man on snowshoes can run 
them down very quickly. 



150 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

There are many different ways to kill a deer. 
In the yard you can kill him with a club. 
You can throw him and break his neck, just 
as the cowboys in the west throw a steer and 
break its neck. Then again you can strangle 
the animal by throwing your whole weight 
against him. 

Talking with Andrew Sockalexis, the Indian 
marathon runner, after my return to civili- 
zation, brought to light another experience 
similar to mine. This Indian had run down a 
deer on snowshoes in the winter and killed the 
animal with his hands alone. 

I feel pity instead of anger toward those 
critics who do not believe simply because they 
do not know. 

The reader remembers the story in a pre- 
ceding chapter of Andrew Douglas having his 
picture taken with a moose. At that time, later 
in the week, we came upon another deer yard 
near Big Jim Pond. There were six bucks 
herded together there, all of about the same 
size. Here was a fine opportunity for photo- 
graphs. The animals were walking about, 
breaking through the crust into the deep 
snow. This made travel very slow for them. 

It was the easiest thing in the world to 
catch them. By scattering, we rounded up the 




THE AUTHOR S FIRST SHOES, MADE OF THE INNER LINING 
BARK OF THE CEDAR 



KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 151 

creatures quickly, but in the mixup they got 
away and all escaped but one. He ran past 
Andrew, close to me. I threw myself at him, 
grabbed him around the neck, and threw him. 

Down we went together, and a terrible rumpus 
followed. He got his forward feet through my 
snowshoes and pinned me to the ground. I 
tried my best to break away before he could 
cut and slash me with his feet. Finally, as I 
couldn't release myself, I hung on to his 
neck for dear life, holding his head down as 
close to me as possible. In that position he 
could n't hurt me. I held on until I could feel 
the strength leaving my hands. Then I hol- 
lered, "Boys, come and take this deer off!" 

Andrew and Harry Pierce only laughed. 

"On the level, boys," I shouted louder, "he 
is going to get me!" 

Evidently my tone impressed them, for they 
stopped laughing and came over and pulled 
the deer from my body. We let the animal 
go. My camera and snowshoes were smashed 
to pieces. 

The deer fights with its forward feet more than 
it does with its horns. In winter a deer does 
not have horns to fight with. Summer is 
the mating season, and I suppose nature pro- 
vided them with antlers at this time to pro- 



152 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

tect themselves. In the mating season the 
horns of these animals are perfect and they 
are always ready for a fight. They will re- 
sist any interference from other animals. But 
in winter they yard together and are peaceful, 
never engaging in battle, for at this time 
they shed their horns and are harmless, 

I have obtained some remarkable photo- 
graphs of these animals in the yards in winter 
under the jacklight. 

Jacklight photography is real sport, and 
when it is all over the animal is not harmed 
in the slightest degree. 

In jacklighting, first of all it is necessary to 
have a dark night. Then you need a canoe 
and a jacklight on a staff in the bow. Next, 
a man who understands paddling is absolutely 
essential — one who when he dips his paddle 
in the water will do it so quietly you cannot 
even hear a ripple. All guides know how to do 
this. 

Set your camera with the shutter open on a 
box above the light. Then you go paddling 
noiselessly down the stream, with a broad 
cycle of light sweeping the shore. 

Unless a beaver swimming along makes a 
dive, and in plunging makes a noise with his 
tail as he goes down, there is absolutely nothing 



KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 153 

to break the silence. That noise does not 
scare the other animals because they know 
what it stands for. 

If the animals on the shore do not get your 
scent you can go very close to them with the 
canoe. 

The first thing you see is two balls of fire in 
the circle of light on the bank. As you come 
nearer, the form of an animal will take shape 
around those balls of fire. It may be a deer, 
a moose, a caribou, a bear, or it may be a 
crane — in fact, any animal or bird in the woods. 

When you feel that you are close enough, pull 
the flashlight and you have your picture. 

Under the spell of the jacklight the animal 
stands fascinated, and it is a most cowardly 
thing to kill one under such conditions. There 
is a law against doing this — one of the few 
good game laws. 

With the moose, especially the cow moose, 
it is different. The jacklight enrages the 
animal and she bristles up and always pre- 
pares to fight it. She will set herself and 
wait until the canoe gets within about ten 
feet of her, when she will charge at it. 

In such a case the man in the stern of the 
canoe must know his business well. The min- 
ute the moose charges he shoves the canoe 



154 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

ahead a couple of lengths, while at the same 
instant the man handling the jack snaps out 
the light. 

As soon as the canoe is out of danger the 
light is thrown on again and the moose gets 
ready for another charge. Exhilarating sport 
follows, but if the man in the stern is not on 
to his job the sport may turn out to be dan- 
gerous. 

The mention of a moose charging a canoe 
brings to my mind an adventure I experienced 
years ago in the Maine country in the daytime. 

Andrew Douglas, the moose expert, was with 
me, and we were paddling upstream above 
Fish Pond, at the head of Spencer Lake. It 
was early morning. As we rounded a bend in 
the river, I heard a sound a little distance ahead. 

Andrew heard it too, and we both stopped 
paddling to listen. The sound of something 
thrashing about in the alders on the bank 
came again, and we again started upstream to 
investigate. 

I was in the stern and Andrew was in the 
bow. 

"I wonder what that is, Andrew?" 

"It is a moose, and he is hung up in the 
mud. " 

We approached nearer, and presently we 



KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 155 

could see the alders swaying back and forth 
with the weight of something. Then we caught 
sight of the animal's head. 

We came very close and watched him struggle 
to release himself. In one of his lunges he ex- 
tricated himself a little, and then he saw us. 
He promptly began to blame his trouble on us. 
This was easy to see, because the bristles on his 
neck began to rise and he wanted to fight. 

Andrew and I just sat there and laughed at 
him. He was one of the biggest and maddest 
moose I have ever seen, and he thrashed about 
and made an awful fuss. We watched him for 
some time, and all the while the creature was 
making good headway toward liberty. 

After awhile a savage lunge brought him 
pretty well out, and I said to Andrew, "We 
better get out of this." 

"Oh, we are all right," he answered. 

So we sat there awhile longer, until the ani- 
mal was practically free. 

"Now we had better get a move on," said 
Andrew. 

I dipped my paddle, and started to swing 
the canoe downstream. The craft turned all 
right, but it kept swinging around in a circle. 
The harder I paddled the faster it went around. 
It moved like a wheel on a pivot. 



156 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

The moose struck the water with a splash, and 
charged toward us. 

''What 's the matter? What 's the matter? 
Why don't you shove the canoe off?" shouted 
Andrew. 

"We're hung up on a stump," I hollered 
back. 

Andrew arose in the bow and walked down 
to my end of the canoe. This threw the bow 
high up out of water, and we were released 
from the stump. 

The moose was close now, and we had 
hardly time to dig our paddles deep and just 
nose away from him. Even then he swam 
madly after us. 

We were in a beaver pond, and, in our anxiety 
to get away, we ran on to another stump close 
to the dam. It was lucky we had opened 
some on the moose, for as we came on this second 
stump we were capsized and thrown into the 
water. 

On came the moose. We swam up and got 
hold of the canoe, just managing to push it 
over the dam and follow after, when the 
moose arrived. The big fellow meant business, 
but we had escaped under his nose. 

There is one interesting thing about these 
animals of the forest that many hunters have 



KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 157 

noticed but have never thought very much 
about. It concerns their wonderful instinct 
in regard to the attitude of men toward them. 

In the off-season men in the woods will 
come upon all kinds of game and, under such 
conditions, will remark, ''Why is it, when I 
have n't my gun with me, I always have great 
chances for shots?" 

The answer is simple. These animals know 
when a man is in the woods to kill them. They 
can feel that he is there for that purpose. At 
those times they keep out of his way. But 
if a man is in the woods without a gun, the 
animals know it, and they do not show fear. 
That is why the man without a gun in the 
forest sees so much game, while with a gun he 
sees so little. 

No animal in the woods would fear man if 
he left his killing instruments behind him. 
In fact they want to become friendly, and 
through curiosity will come to man. But 
man can never tame them if he goes to them. 

I saw many wild creatures in the wilderness 
during my experiment, and they came to 
me, knowing that I was their friend. They 
knew that I would not harm them, and they 
wondered just what kind of an animal I 
was. 



158 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

That is why the red deer and the white fawn 
would eat out of my hand. 

That is why partridges actually followed me 
and allowed me to touch them. 

I never want to see an animal harmed, unless 
it is through absolute necessity. Even under 
those conditions there is a regret when I am 
forced to kill one. 



CHAPTER XI 

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 

The domain in which I lived during my ex- 
periment brought back to my mind many inci- 
dents of bygone days, for it was in this north- 
ern Maine country, a little to the north and 
west, that I had guided and trapped so many 
times before. 

About eighteen years ago I had a trapping 
line up in that hunting country. The line 
was about twenty miles long. It was in winter. 
On all such lines as this there is a home camp, 
and it was at this home camp of mine that I 
spent four or five nights out of the week. The 
rest of the time I would stop anywhere along 
the line in rough lean-tos, which I had built 
during various trips. When night overtook 
me and I was far from the home camp I would 
head for one of these temporary shelters. 

The time came when it was necessary for 
me to kill a deer. I needed the meat, and also 
some of the hide to make new fdlings for my 
snowshoes. This rawhide is the best filling 

150 



160 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

for snowshoes. To get this hide it is necessary 
to kill some fur-bearing animal. 

In spite of its being out of season I was thus 
forced by circumstances to take a chance and 
get a deer. 

There was an old man who lived near a set- 
tlement, not a great way from where my camp 
was. I knew that he could not kill a deer, and 
that he would be glad to have some deer meat. 
So I gave him half of the animal I had killed. 
He said he would not say anything about it, 
and thanked me. He and his wife ate the meat. 

Some time during the winter, while I was trap- 
ping, the game wardens came up in that sec- 
tion of the country and ran across signs of 
deer killing. Immediately they went to the 
old man and asked him if he knew who had 
been killing deer out of season. He replied, 
''Joe Knowles is the only man who has been in 
this section. He has a trapping line, and if 
anyone has been killing deer it is he." 

They vowed they would get me and bring me 
out and fine me. 

One day I saw strange snowshoe sloates 
crossing my own. I wondered whose they 
were. The first thought that came to me was 
of the game wardens. I followed these sloates 
far enough to see that they were hunting for 



WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 161 

something. I kept on until signs told me that 
the entrails and what was left of that deer had 
been found. Then the snowshoe tracks went 
back on their trail and I knew that the wardens 
were after me. 

They couldn't follow the trail to my camp, 
as I had looked out for that. So they went 
back to the village — as I afterwards found 
out — and told the people that a deer had been 
killed in the woods, in the section where Knowles 
was trapping, and that they were going to 
catch him and fine him. 

It was on their next trip that the wardens 
came to the house of the old man, and the old 
man told them that it was I who was killing 
deer. 

Then they came up to my camp. I saw them 
coming, and went out to the door to meet them 
and welcome them. In the little entry I had 
a quarter of the deer hanging up. There was 
an old mackinaw hanging there too. These 
wardens were so near the door that I had no 
time to do anything. I hung the mackinaw 
over the deer meat just about a second before 
they came in, 

''This is nice weather," they greeted. 

"Yes," I answered. 

"How are you getting along trapping?" 



162 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

"All right." 

I then asked them to stop and have a little 
dinner with me. We had something to eat, and 
they never mentioned what they had come 
for; but I knew and they knew that I knew. 
They didn't ask to search around, but saw 
nothing and yet were not satisfied. 

Finally they said they guessed they would 
go and make a short cut to the settlement 
where they had come from. I knew that though 
they might start in that direction, they would 
not follow it for long. 

Another deer I had killed was close by. I 
had not cut him up, but had hung him in an old 
shack near my camp. 

The game warden started off, but, as I ex- 
pected, soon took the direction of the old 
shack. Nothing but a dog could have fol- 
lowed the track that led up to that old shack. 
I had dragged the carcass over the crust early 
in the morning, when it was so hard it left no 
trace of the work. 

Even if they saw the buck in there, there 
would be nothing by which they could directly 
connect me with the killing of the animal. 

I wanted to watch them closely, and, not 
being able to do so from the ground floor of 
my camp, I went up to the top and looked out 



WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 163 

across the clearing. After the wardens had got 
some distance away they wheeled around and 
headed straight for the shack. Then I saw them 
go inside. Of course, I knew that that meant 
they would find the deer. 

I said to myself, "I'll have some fun with 
these fellows." I took my gun and through 
a crack fired several shots at the top of the 
shack. As the wood splintered you should 
have seen those men hustle away from that 
quarter ! 

That was the end of it for that night, but 
I knew they would return the next morning to 
arrest me. 

In the morning, before daylight, I got up 
and put on my snowshoes. Then I went 
over to the old shack, took down the deer, 
and placed it on a toboggan. The crust was 
as hard as wood, and I knew that neither my 
snowshoes nor the dragging of the toboggan 
would leave any traces. 

I dragged the carcass about a mile into the 
woods and buried it under the crust even 
before the sun had risen over the top of the 
mountain. 

My judgment of the night before proved 
to be just right, for that morning the wardens 
appeared again. They were reenforced in 



164 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

numbers. Instead of coming to my camp as 
they should have done, they went down to the 
shack in the clearing. 7 

It was a funny situation just then, for, when 
they discovered the deer gone, the men whom 
they had brought with them thought that the 
wardens had been lying to them. They hunted 
around for tracks, but of course there were n't 
any, and that fact only got the original game 
wardens in worse trouble than ever. 

Thus far they did n't have the slightest proof 
against me. 

Those wardens who had really seen the deer 
there were so mad that they went down to the 
house of the old man again and made a deal 
with him to appear as a witness against me. 

This news reached me very quickly, and I 
knew that it meant that I was to be watched 
in the woods. 

Knowing that the wardens knew my partic- 
ular snowshoe sloates I started to make a differ- 
ent pair. I put on these new shoes and started 
for a deer yard. I continued to walk through 
this deer yard until I reached a road that led 
to the settlement. When I got to this logging 
road I took off the snowshoes and hung them 
with their trails forward, and started back over 
the same ground. This made another trail, 



WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 165 

the two sets of tracks giving the appearance 
of two men having gone to the settlement. 

It was n't long before the wardens discovered 
these tracks, and as they went through the deer 
yard it set them thinking. They took the bait 
completely. 

Some distance from my camp I took off my 
new double-end snowshoes and hid them under 
the crust, taking out my own regular pair 
which I had left there. 

A short time later the wardens appeared 
at my camp and asked if I had seen any stran- 
gers in that part of the country. I told them 
that I had not. I asked no questions, and 
did n 't appear a bit curious. They left me, 
very much puzzled. 

After awhile I struck out again, but this 
time I started with the tails of my shoes for- 
ward. It was snowing hard. 

Determined to find the man or men who 
were killing game out of season the wardens 
were constantly on the job. They found my 
last sloates and began to follow them. How- 
ever, they followed them in the opposite direc- 
tion from that in which I was going. 

I learned afterwards that they lost the trail 
because the snow filled my back tracks so 
quickly. Because of that, they thought the 



166 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

man ahead of them was a whirlwind on snow- 
shoes. 

One morning a man whom I knew in the 
woods came down to my camp and told me 
how affairs were going. 

"I know it is necessary for you to kill a deer 
once in awhile," he said, ''but they are de- 
termined to get you, and if they do it will 
mean a heavy fine." 

"All right," I retorted. 

Then he told me that the old man who had 
"squealed" on me was going to be a witness. 
That very night I went down to see the old 
gentleman just for the sake of having a heart- 
to-heart talk with him. I found both him 
and his wife at home, and they looked kind of 
flustered when I made my appearance. 

"Look here," I began, "I understand you 
are going to be a witness against me for killing 
a deer out of season." 

"But they have summoned me," the old 
man excused himself, "and I have got to go. 
I don't want to do anything that will injure 
you but I shall have to tell the truth." 

''What do you know?" I questioned. 

"I know that you have been killing deer." 

"You know that because I have told you so, " 
I broke in. "You have had some of that deer 



WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 167 

meat and have eaten it. It will be pretty 
tough on me, and I shall have to pay quite a 
fine. Have you got any grievance against 
me?" 

"Oh, no," he replied. ''But a man has to go 
to court when he is summoned. And a man 
must tell the truth." 

"All right," I agreed, "but as long as you 
are going to tell the truth do not forget to tell 
the court that I gave you half of a deer. " 

"No, I won't forget," answered the old 
man. 

"And when I get ready to pay my fine you 
get ready to pay part of it." 

"No — no," he cried, greatly excited. 

Then I asked him if he had a copy of the 
game laws of the State of Maine. He searched 
around until he found a copy, stoutly main- 
taining all the while that he was in no way 
responsible for any part of my fine. 

However, I quickly showed him where he 
had been an accessory after the fact, and that, 
therefore he was liable. He "backed water" 
pretty quick, and later when the wardens came 
to take him to court he refused to go, insisting 
that he knew nothing whatever about the 
matter. 

This turn of affairs made the wardens more 



168 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

determined than ever to get bona fide evidence 
against me. 

Putting my snowshoes on backside-to fooled 
them every time, and when they thought 
they were on the trail of someone they were 
going in the opposite direction. 

Some months later on, after the affair had 
died down, these same wardens came up to 
my camp at my invitation. We had a good 
time fox hunting and got more or less confi- 
dential. They told me that they knew I had 
been killing game out of season, and admitted 
they had been months trying to get me. 

A few years afterward the chief warden who 
had been after me in the deer-killing episode 
came down to my camp as my guest. One 
morning he discovered in a corner among 
some old traps my pair of snowshoes with the 
tails hung forward. As I watched him looking 
them over I saw that he connected them with 
those strange tracks he had seen years before. 
He was doing a lot of thinking. 

Finally he referred to the shoes, making the 
comment that such a pair would leave tracks 
as if one were walking backwards. I began to 
laugh and then told him I had walked that way 
many times. 

''Joe," he cried, "I want to ask you just 



WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 169 

one question. What did you do with that 
deer that was hanging up in the old shack?" 

"What deer? What shack?" I feigned. 

I never told him. 

I am now going to relate another story to 
you, one which came back to me after fifteen 
years while I was crossing Spruce Mountain 
on my way to Canada during my recent two- 
months experiment. 

It was in this Spruce Mountain country that 
the incident occurred. The hunting season 
had long since gone by and it was about the 
first of March. 

For the purpose of taking photographs of 
some moose, Andrew Douglas, the most famous 
moose hunter in the history of the State of 
Maine; Harry Pierce, owner of the King and 
Bartlett Camps, and myself started off through 
the woods on snowshoes. 

Andrew was about sixty years old. We had 
left everything to him in regard to locating the 
moose. We made preparations to stay two 
or three weeks, and I took along my five-by- 
seven camera. 

During the first two days we got pretty well 
into the woods, but not a sign of a moose did 
we see. This fact made Andrew so grouchy that 
he refused even to speak to us. When we asked 



170 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

him when he expected to find a moose yard he 
wouldn't answer. He got so mad that he 
tried to walk us to death on snowshoes. 

However, we followed his sloates wherever 
they went those two days. He was getting 
madder every minute, and finally it got so he 
wouldn't stop to eat lunch at noon. He was 
hunting for a moose yard with a determi- 
nation that was unbeatable. 

Harry and I talked a lot as we crunched along, 
and we had almost lost our confidence in the 
ability of the old man. 

The third night came on, and, as on the pre- 
ceding nights, we dug a hole in the snow, which 
we filled with boughs, putting more boughs 
on top, and then built a fire in front of the 
crude shelter. 

The next morning there wasn't a word 
spoken. We fried a few extra flapjacks to eat 
for lunch, and once more got under way. 

I asked Harry if he had the courage to ask 
Andrew which direction we were going that 
day. Harry took a chance and put the ques- 
tion, whereupon Andrew growled back at him, 
"None of your business!" 

We decided that we could stand it as long as 
he could, so followed on. We knew he would n't 
stop until he had located a moose yard. 



WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 171 

Finally we came to the shore of a little pond. 
In silence we crossed the pond and went into 
a thicket on the opposite side. Following 
wherever the old man led us we found our- 
selves taking a circle to the left. Presently 
we came out on the shore of this same pond 
again. Then Andrew stopped. He spoke 
for the first time in days. 

''Harry," he said, "I have always told my 
boys about this pond on this side of the moun- 
tain and they would never believe it." 

"Why, this is the same pond we crossed a 
little while ago," Harry replied, looking inter- 
rogatively at me. 

I nodded yes. 

"We have not crossed this pond," declared 
the old man firmly. 

"Why, yes, we have. Don't you remember 
— just a little while back — " 

"No, sir, we did not cross this particular 
pond. Did we, Joe?" he appealed to me. 

"I think we did," I said. 

"I tell you we did n't," he reiterated. 

Then I told him I would go up to the other end 
of the pond to see if I could find our tracks, 
and as I started off he growled something after 
me about nonsense. I found the tracks all 
right, and when I got back Harry and I were 



172 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

in a position to dictate. Andrew had got 
turned all around. 

We went on until we reached Spotted Spruce 
Mountain. Andrew had become so peevish 
that he was very far ahead of us out of sight. 
Harry and I knew that if we continued down 
the side of Spotted Spruce Mountain we would 
come upon a comfortable camp. The thought 
of that made us temporarily sick of trying to 
find moose, for we had been spending nights 
out in the snow lean-tos. 

We were almost on the point of letting Andrew 
go where he pleased and going down to this 
camp ourselves, when, away up on the moun- 
tain, we heard the faint cry of the old man. 

''Hey! Come on up here! Here 's the 
moose!" 

Forgetting all about the camp we started 
up the mountain as fast as ever we could go. 
Sure enough, he had found a moose yard! 
There were a bull and two cows in sight. 

"I have found your moose. Now get one," 
cried Andrew as the big bull began to come 
toward us. 

There was a strange thing about this moose. 
In spite of its being winter he had antlers. 
Through some freak of nature he had not shed 
his horns, as is the natural thing for moose to 



WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 173 

do in the yarding season. He was the only 
moose I ever saw with full antlers in winter. 

The moose turned over toward the burnt 
lands and I followed him for about half a 
mile, when I finally overtook him. The snow 
was pretty deep and the going was difficult 
for him. He managed to haul himself ahead 
near a little bunch of trees. 

While I was fooling with him Harry and 
Andrew came up. 

"Where's the moose?" they demanded. 

I pointed over toward the trees. 

"Well, why don't you drive him out?" cried 
Andrew. 

Andrew had a gun in his hand. I had my 
camera. After the old man had told me I was 
scared to death of the moose, he suggested that I 
fell a small cedar on the edge of the clump of trees 
down on the animal's back and force him out. 

I took my hatchet and felt my way up close 
to this cedar. The moose kept watching me 
closely; and I watched him closely too. 

At last I got a bit acquainted with him and 
then I started to chop. As the chips flew toward 
him he made two or three attempts to get at 
me. He had trampled down quite a square 
of snow, and had a fairly good footing from 
which he could jump. 



171 ALONE IN 11IK WILDERNESS 

Although 1 ilioppcd into the side of the tree 
nearest (he moose I evidently didn't steer 
right, for when the cedar fell it landed on 
anolher tree, about two feet above the moose's 
baek. 

Tliis was Andrew's cue to get talking again. 
He was disgusted. 

"Well, it's too late to get a picture now. 
We'll have to let him go and make a try in the 
morning," he announced, starting dow^n the 
mountain. 

"T>ut the moose will begone in the morning," 
1 argued. 

"Wluit of it?" Andrew threw back over his 
shoulder. 

We stayed at the comfortable camp that 
night, and the next morning Harry, who had 
had enough of chasing around, played sick 
just before Andrew and 1 started olT for the 
moose yard again. 

Of course, when we reached the clump of 
trees of the night before the moose had gone. 

"I know where he is," declared the old man. 

There were no tracks, as it liad snowed during 

the night. T^ut Andrew headed for a swamp 

some two miles away, and shortly we struck 

fresh moose tracks. 

Pretty soon T came across one of the crea- 



WILDK.RNKSS ADVK.NTIJIIES 17r, 

ture's antlers, which he niusl have knocketl 
olT against a tree. 

Presently we caught sight of him liinil)ering 
along through the snow. He; turned from 
the swamj) into Ihc I)urn( laiids, and as he was 
not able to go so last as I could on my snow- 
shoes 1 soon overtook him. lie stopped in his 
tracks, ready to light. 

About thirty feet away from tlu; moose 
J set u}) my camera and took several negatives 
of him. 

Suddenly Andrew asked, "Say, Joe, can't 
you get me in that same picture with the 
moose?" 

"If you can get near enough," 1 rei)lied. 

"I never had my picture taken wilh a moose 
and I would kind of like to." 

The old man had his eye on the animal as 
he talked, and was gradually edging nean^r. 
When he was about twenty-live feet from the 
creature he sto])]')ed. 

"This near enough?" 

"No — can't see you on llu; ])late. " 

Andrew crept three or four feet nearer. 

"How's this?" 

"No good," I shouted. 

"Can you get me all right now?" He had 
covered just a foot more. 



176 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Meanwhile the moose was glowering at him 
and stamping his feet. The bristles on his 
main were standing up straight. He was ready 
for a fight. This made Andrew mad. 

"I'll put a pill into you if you don't mind 
your own business," he roared, addressing his 
threat to the animal. 

"Say, Joe, this is all right, ain't it?" 

I told him that I could see him on the glass, 
but that he was about as big as a pinhead, and 
that no one would be able to tell that it was he. 

The old man stood still thinking, with the 
moose watching him like a cat. There was a 
pine stump sticking up out of the snow on the 
other side of the moose, and Andrew's mind 
traveled to that stump. 

"Can't you swing your camera round this 
way?" he asked, taking a wide circle around 
the moose to the other side. 

I fixed my camera, while Andrew, peeking 
round the stump, managed to get within ten 
feet of the animal. There they stood on either 
side of the big stump, each trying to catch sight 
of the other, 

I have that picture to this day. 



CHAPTER XII 

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 

I think sometimes when a man suffers his 
mind is apt to go back over his life and Knger 
on some terrible hardship he has experienced, 
and that by making a comparison between the 
present suffering and that of the past he finds 
some consolation. It is no uncommon thing 
to hear a man or woman say, ''If I could go 
through that I surely can stand this present 
trouble. " 

A similar comparison confronted me in the 
forest when mental torture threatened to drive 
me back to civilization before my time was 
up. It was about an experience I had under- 
gone many years before in the northern Maine 
country, and the remembrance of it on those 
lonesome times made me realize that my lot 
at present was far less hard in comparison. 

I too said to myself, "If I could endure that 
night I can surely win this battle with my 
mind." The recollection of that adventure 

177 



178 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

in the canon, eighteen years before, aided me 
greatly in this respect. 

At that time I was stopping in a settlement 
in northern Maine. One morning I was called 
upon to prepare for a sixty-mile ride, being 
told at the same time that a young woman 
was to be intrusted to my care during the 
journey. 

It was the latter part of January, and from 
six to ten feet of snow covered the ground. 
That very morning it was snowing, but it was 
a light snow and the air was unusually warm for 
that time of year. 

After we had ridden for about twenty miles 
the snow turned to rain, and the horse began 
to slump badly. He could hardly step with- 
out sinking deep into the snow. However, 
with the slowest kind of progress we crawled 
along five miles farther, the footing getting 
worse every minute. It was all the horse could 
do to stay on the footpath. 

Presently we entered a caiion where a 
ledge overhung the path. To the left was a 
river, which, because of the light snow, had 
overflowed its bank, and undermined the deep 
snow. While the ice had not gone out of the 
river there were many loose cakes ready to 
float out at any time. 



MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 179 

I stopped the horse in order to let him rest 
a moment. Time had been moving swiftly 
and it was about four o'clock in the afternoon. 

The roadway ahead of us appeared like any 
other part of the road, but unknown to us the 
water had crept in under the crust. We started 
forward again, and just as we came to the 
lowest part, close to the river, the horse broke 
through the surface of the snow into the water, 
dragging the sleigh with us in it after him. 

The water was up to our waists and it was 
bitter cold. It was a wild sort of country. 
Just above our heads, hanging from the ledge, 
were tons of icicles, measuring anywhere from 
seventy-five to one hundred feet long. A bullet 
from a revolver would have loosened them, and 
it is easy to imagine what would have hap- 
pened to us if they had chanced to' fall. 

Taking off my fur coat I jumped into the 
slop up to my waist, and took the girl on my 
back. After falling down several times I 
managed to make my way with her to solid 
ground a bit higher up on one side. 

I got the sleigh robe and spread it on the 
ground and placed her on it. We were both 
soaked through. 

It stopped raining and began to get very 
cold. I looked back at the horse and saw that 



180 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

he was struggling hard to get on solid ground. 
He didn't seem to gain an inch. I went 
back through the slop and, after cutting the 
harness away from the rig, tried to lead him 
across the space of slush and snow. The 
more I tried the more he became stuck. He 
would struggle until exhausted, then he would 
rest. In the struggle the sleigh was smashed. 

My legs were almost numb and I jumped up 
and down as I tried to help the horse. 

It was dark by now and soon the moon came 
out. The wind sprang up and thin ice began 
to form on the water which had already covered 
the snow where I was trying to get the horse 
out. 

To make matters worse the ice began to 
cram down the river, and I had to push and 
crowd away the big cakes which threatened 
every minute to sweep the horse's feet from 
under him. 

This made the water rise higher, and sev- 
eral times during the rush of ice I had to lift 
the horse to keep him from falling. Then 
I heard the girl cry and I floundered half frozen 
back to her. When I saw that she was moving 
I knew that she was not freezing, so I went 
back to the horse again. 

If the horse could only go twenty-five feet 



MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 181 

he would be all right. I pushed down the 
snow and ice and endeavored to make a clear- 
ing for the animal, and I worked till I could 
scarcely stand up. Many a time I had to hang 
on to the horse 's neck to keep myself from fall- 
ing. The horse would struggle to release him- 
self, and the sharp calks on his shoes cut my 
legs and slashed me terribly. I bear those scars 
to this day. I was covered with blood and the 
only thing I could do was to hang on to the 
horse's neck and rest. 

Then I heard the girl cry again and went 
back to her. The situation was getting se- 
rious in this quarter. She could not stand, she 
was so thoroughly chilled through. 

I had to pull her around roughly and fairly 
lick her. To keep her blood moving fast I 
thrashed her in good shape. I would rub snow 
on her legs and then I would lick her again. 
She would cry with the pain. This beating 
and pulling and rubbing kept her from freezing. 

Finally I placed her on the robe again and 
stood there wondering what I should do. I 
said to myself that the nearest house was four 
miles away. I knew that I could get there 
myself, but by the time I returned the girl 
would be dead and probably the horse. I 
could not carry the girl. I had not even the 



182 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

strength to drag her. So I stood there and 
looked at the girl and looked at the horse 
and looked at the moon. 

I had a revolver in my pocket and I wondered 
if perhaps the best way would be to shoot the 
suffering horse and take a chance at saving the 
girl and myself. But I reasoned that the only 
way to save us both was to save the horse, so 
back I went to the aid of the poor animal. 

By this time ice had formed about the 
horse and I had to break it away all around 
him. He was very nearly spent but he struggled 
ahead with my help and gained a bit. But help- 
ing the horse took every bit of strength I pos- 
sessed, and I began to think I would have 
to call it off. 

When it seemed as if I could hardly raise my 
hand, and my legs were numb with the bitter 
cold water and slush, I hung on to the horse 's 
neck and gazed at the moon in despair. I 
cursed that moon. I cursed everything in 
the world. I said, "There is no God!" I 
laughed at the thought of prayer, and instead 
of praying cursed and damned everything. 

''Nothing I have ever attempted has come 
out right," I cried. "I have been up against 
it and have had to struggle all my life. This 
is my last struggle, and I don't care. 



MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 183 

"I'll stay with the horse," I continued to 
myself. ''What is the difference!" 

It kept getting colder and colder. The blood 
running down my legs where the horse's hoofs 
had cut me, together with the cold and my 
efforts, made me so weak I could hardly hold on 
to the animal's neck. Short rests restored my 
strength and I renewed the fight. 

Continually slipping and crashing down, 
the horse struggled forward. When he fell 
I would pull him up again. Then I would hear 
the girl cry again. 

Once when I reached her side and spoke to 
her she did not answer. I lifted her up, but she 
fell back flat. Then I beat her as if I were mad 
and dragged her about, tearing her clothes. 
Then she moaned and screamed, and I knew 
that she was still alive. 

This exercise with the girl did n't rest me any, 
and before I made another journey to the horse 
I was forced to get my breath. 

Again I was forced to break away the ice. 
The horse's legs were numb and I had to 
beat him to keep him struggling. 

I was suffering excruciating pain and I know 
it made a different man of me. 

With a superhuman effort the horse got 
within ten feet of sure footing. I knew that 



184 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

everything hung on the next struggle and I 
wondered if the animal and I were equal to it. 

First I went back to the girl and beat her 
some more. Pulling her out into the snow, 
I took the robe away from her and left her half 
dead. 

Using this robe as a footing I made ready 
for the final struggle with the horse. I knew 
it was the last, because I realized the animal 
wouldn't last through another one. Neither 
would I. 

The struggle began with a thrashing of hoofs 
and a lashing about. Suddenly the horse gave 
a mighty plunge and his forward feet struck 
the solid ground! He stood there trembling 
all over. I fell down exhausted and lay there 
and rested. 

The horse was entirely free now. 

When I got my breath I went fearfully to the 
side of the girl. I pulled her up and spoke 
to her. 

"I'm all right," she said faintly. "Don't 
wait for me. Go along. Leave me here — I 'm 
not suffering any more." 

I dropped her back and went after the horse. 
Then I led him staggering over to the side of 
the girl. 

First I would rub the limbs of the girl, and 



MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 185 

then I would start doing the same thing to 
the horse until I could n 't rub any more. 

Finally I made an attempt to throw the girl 
across the horse's back, but to save my life I 
couldn't lift her up. I would rest a moment 
and then try again. 

After trying half a dozen times I managed to 
sling her across, and for an instant I thought 
the animal was going to cave in under her. 
However, he started unsteadily ahead, with me 
walking alongside, holding the girl by one of 
her legs. 

I steered him by the rough places, for I knew 
if he slumped it would be all off. For about a 
mile our sorry trio continued until we reached 
a point where a narrow gauge logging railroad 
crossed the footpath. I knew that it would 
be easier going between the rails of this track, 
so I led the creature onto the track, taking 
care that he did not stumble and fall. 

We were still three miles from the nearest 
house, and it was growing colder every minute. 
The next mile seemed an endless one. I con- 
stantly shook the girl and talked a steady stream 
of nothing to her to keep her mind going. 

Then, all of a sudden, I discovered just in 
time an opening bridge ahead of us, over 
which the horse could not possibly cross. 



186 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

It certainly seemed as if fate were blocking 
me at every point. 

As I stood there I heard away in the distance 
the sound of a train coming. Presently I saw 
the headlight way back down the track. 

In the night the engineers and firemen of these 
trains do not look out of the cab windows 
because they do not expect to see anything on 
the track in winter. I knew they would not 
be watching. I tried to lead the horse off the 
track but he would not budge an inch. 

I saw that something had to be done at 
once. I grabbed the girl, dragged her off the 
horse's back, and laid her down beside the 
track. 

Walking along beside the horse during the 
last hour had given some of my strength back, 
and when the animal would not move a second 
time I began to push him with my shoulder. 
The train was quite near now, and in my frantic 
efforts to get the horse off the rails I reached 
down and grabbed his right foot and threw 
my whole strength against him. Down he 
went with a crash beside the track, and I held 
him down by the head so he could not get up. 

How I wanted that train to stop just then! 
I began to shout. As the train came nearer 
my yells were lost in the roar of the engine. 



MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 187 

It slid past us, and no one knew we were 
within a thousand miles. Slowly it disap- 
peared in the darkness. 

I knew we must get on our v/ay again. 
The goal was only two miles away, and 
the girl was in danger of freezing every 
minute. 

It was useless to attempt to cross that bridge 
— in fact, it could not be done. I left the 
horse and started through the snow by the 
side of the track to see how far away the road 
might be, and discovered it was only about 
thirty-five feet distant. 

Heaven knows it was near enough, but there 
was a six-foot alder brush which we would have 
to go through, and the snow had loaded this 
down with a ten-foot deep covering. I began 
to dig an opening, and after laborious work 
tunneled a place through which the horse 
could go to the road. 

Upon reaching the girl I found her numb and 
still. I began beating her again, dragging her 
about on the track and bumping her over the 
sleepers. 

Then I left the girl again and fought with the 
horse. I finally got him through the deep snow 
to the tunnel and out on to the road. As soon 
as this was done I went back to the girl and 



188 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

carried her to the horse and managed to get 
her once more on his back. 

It didn't seem as if I could go on myself. 
I was completely exhausted. I remember 
telling the girl it was only a little way to the 
house now. I said, "I can see the house." 

I don't remember much that followed for a 
spell, but I do know that I suddenly looked 
up and really saw the house just ahead. The 
sight of it gave me new life. 

I kept rubbing the girl's lirnbs and telling 
her we were there, and encouraging her, until 
we reached the yard. There was a light in one 
of the windows. I staggered up to the door of 
the house, fell down on the steps, and rapped. 
The door opened and a man appeared. I could 
just talk, but I could not stand. 

''Take this woman into the house, and the 
horse into the stable, " I gasped. ''Bandage up 
his legs and stop the blood. Don't ask me any 
questions. I'll tell you later." 

The girl was quickly taken into the house. 
I felt relieved. My job was done. I relaxed. 
We had just made it. I remember as I lay there 
on the steps thinking that it was the horse that 
saved us. 

Presently the man came up to me with a 
lantern and helped me into the house. There 



MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 189 

was an old lady there. I just remember seeing 
her for an instant. I fell flat on the floor and 
stared into the blazing fireplace. 

The old man began to ask me all kinds of 
questions. 

"Don't ask me anything. Leave me alone 
for an hour, " I begged. I did not want them to 
touch me at all. I asked them not to touch me, 

"Won't you have a glass of cider?" the man 
asked quietly. 

I didn't answer, but he disappeared and 
came back shortly with a dipperful of the sour 
stuff. It was a big, two-quart dipper and it was 
full. I grabbed it from his hand and drained it 
to the last drop. The dipper fell from my hands 
to the floor and I sank down in front of the 
fire a^ain. 

We had reached that house at eleven o 'clock, 
after seven hours of torture and cold. 

While the girl had frozen the side of her face, 
one hand, and the sides of her feet, she recov- 
ered. She was covered with black and blue 
places where I had beaten her and dragged her 
about. 

The horse came through all right. 

With the exception of a badly cut up pair 
of legs I was as well as if nothing had happened 
the next morning. 



190 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

There in the woods during my two months' 
experiment this story came to me vividly, 
and I would always say to myself, when things 
seemed pretty hard to stand, "There is noth- 
ing that I am now undergoing that can com- 
pare with those seven hours eighteen years 
ago." 

My experience that night I got lost in the 
swamp during my life alone in the wilderness 
was nothing as compared to that winter's 
night in the canon. 

Speaking of that bog brings to my mind a 
question which has been asked me over and 
over again since I have come back to civiliza- 
tion. Scores of people have wanted to know 
how I stood the flies and mosquitoes while I 
was up there naked in the woods. 

Now as to the flies — there were none. The 
last of July sees the end of flies in the woods. 
Anyone who knows the forest understands this. 

There were a few mosquitoes, but they were 
to be found only in the swamp land. Up on 
the mountainside there were none at all. What 
few might have found their way there would 
soon have been blown away by the wind. 

Other ^ieople have asked me what I did on 
rainy days. 

Rainy days were just the same to me as 



MORE WILDERNESS ADVENIURES 191 

any other days. The rain did not bother me in 
the sHghtest. My body got used to it, and there 
was no danger of my taking cold. 

The hundred and one questions asked me by 
women on the train when I was coming down 
through Maine to Boston amused me not a little. 
After explaining to them that I had entered 
the wilderness without a single thing but my 
naked self, and emphasizing the fact by nam- 
ing one thing after another that I did without, 
the following questions would come pouring 
in on me: 

"How did you keep your matches dry in 
wet weather?" 

"Weren't you frightened when you hid in 
that hole and waited for a bear to come along?" 

"You must have been a good shot to kill 
that deer!" 

"Were the other men who went into the 
woods with you good company?" 

When I replied that I had no matches, that 
I did not stand in a hole and wait for a bear, 
that I had no gun, and that other men did 
not go into the wilderness with me they could 
not seem to understand it. 

I quickly saw I had a campaign of woodland 
education on my hands, especially for the 
ladies. 



192 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

But, just the same, experience has taught me 
since the experiment that the average man is 
a close second in regard to a meager knowledge 
of the woods and nature. 

To my mind, no matter how finely educated or 
well versed a man may be in booklore, he is 
not complete unless there is a touch of nature 
in his makeup. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 

In this particular chapter it is not my in- 
tention to state that our present mode of 
living is wrong. Rather, I will simply give 
my opinion of the subject, formed by constant 
comparative thoughts which came to me while 
I was living alone in the wilderness. 

Every man has a right to his opinion, and 
every man's opinion should be respected be- 
cause it is his honest point of view. 

According to my opinion the way the world 
is living at present is entirely wrong. Civili- 
zation has carried us along to a point where, 
through custom and habit, we are accepting 
an artificial life rather than a natural one. 
Commercialism and the mad desire to make 
money have blotted out everything else, and 
as a result we are not living, but merely existing. 

The boy in school is being taught that above 
all else he must make a success of life, and 
that success is reckoned by society on the basis 
of what a man is capable of earning. 

193 



194 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Human beings are so obsessed with this idea 
that they find little time to look at the trees 
and the sky. As a result, nature, the one thing 
that is more essential than all the rest, is 
sadly neglected. 

However, I am optimistic. I believe that 
our unnatural living has reached a point 
where people are beginning to realize that 
nature is indeed being neglected. I believe 
that civilization will turn back to nature 
and enjoy her countless benefits. 

Under our present mode of living a parent 
has been deserted, for nature is our real mother. 

Mothers and fathers should take their chil- 
dren back to nature — to the woods. Here 
they should allow them to play and live and 
learn a great many things which they will 
never forget. By doing this the parent will be 
inculcating the love of nature in the child, 
rather than the fear of it. 

Perhaps some parents can't understand this, 
but I would advise letting children live as they 
want to out-of-doors. By so doing they will 
learn to feel things, and feeling things is what 
makes character. 

Let the children play out in the rain and in 
the snow. They will not catch cold. If a 
child is cold he will run around and get warm. 



THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 195 

Presently his flesh will become hard and firm 
and he will be the picture of rugged health. 
After awhile he will not notice the cold. 

Under the present conditions the parent lets 
the child play in the snow and rain for a short 
time, and then calls him into the house, say- 
ing, perhaps, that it is getting too cold for 
the child to be out. Children are bundled up, 
given hot drinks, and put into comfortable 
beds with extra coverings to ward off any 
possible cold. If a draft of God's pure air 
happens to sweep across the bed, the parent 
fearfully closes the window. 

That is the worst way in the world to bring 
up children. Give them all the comfort pos- 
sible in regard to clothing, but do not be 
afraid to let them expose themselves to the 
weather. 

Years ago, when I was a boy, I thought noth- 
ing of going down to the spring in winter 
in my bare feet. I used to keep moving and 
the snow did not harm them. When I got back 
to the house my feet would be as warm as 
toast and as red as fire. 

I remember one winter when regularly for 
six weeks I used to go out in the snow each 
morning with nothing on my body and race 
through the snow for half a mile or more. It 



196 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

might have been zero or below zero — it did n't 
matter. So long as I kept going I was all 
right. When I went back into the house 
my body would burn all over like fire. The 
blood was coursing through my veins and I was 
putting myself in fine shape. 

Being out in the fresh air part of the time 
and locked up in a house full of impure air the 
rest of the time constitutes a radical change. 
It is these sudden changes that bring on pneu- 
monia and other diseases. 

Do not pay much attention to your children 
for fear they may catch cold out-of-doors. 
That fear of yours may result in the dreaded 
cold. If they feel cold they will instinctively 
move about. 

If children are in bed and begin to cry that 
they are cold, let them cry. Don't pay any 
attention to them. So long as they keep up 
screaming they are all right. When they get 
up in the morning they may look a little tired, 
but you will notice that they will eat an un- 
usually good breakfast. 

The child who is given all the luxury of a 
steam-heated room free from drafts, instead of 
sleeping practically dies during the night and 
comes to life again in the morning. These 
children are like tender young plants. They 



THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 197 

have no appetites. Breakfast means nothing 
to them. 

Take these same children and send them out- 
of-doors to play for hours in the open air, and 
when dinner time comes they will eat heartily. 
They will have lived for a brief time the way 
nature meant them to live. This means liv- 
ing out-of-doors all the time and exercising. 

I believe because of this great neglect of 
nature that the world is growing weaker and 
weaker, and that human beings are the 
sufferers. 

While I do not wish to thrust my ideas upon 
people, I am glad to be able to contribute all 
that I have learned in my way of living; and 
I honestly feel that if they heed some of the 
advice and believe in me they will benefit 
greatly in health. 

I ate in the woods only when I 'felt like it 
and when circumstances brought me in con- 
tact with things to eat. When there was 
nothing in sight I did not eat. I had no regular 
breakfast time. Just because it was the first 
thing in the morning I did not eat. 

Because civilization has got the idea that 
everyone should eat at noon does not prove 
that it is the time to eat. 
, It was the same at night; I had no accepted 



198 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

supper time. If I was not hungry I did not 
eat. When I was hungry I naturally drifted 
to a place where I could relieve my hunger. 

People of the civilized life drift into hotels 
and restaurants at so-called meal times because 
they have been accustomed to enter such places 
at those times before. Nine times out of ten 
they are not really hungry. 

A man sits down to the table, picks up the 
menu, and wonders in a worried way what he 
will eat. Lie says it is the same thing over 
and over again, and he makes a great fuss in 
the ordering. If that person were truly hungry 
and normal he would order anything. 

Some days in the woods I may have eaten 
twenty times a day; on other days I would 
not eat a thing. Nothing was regular with 
me. I had no regular time to sleep. I simply 
drifted along the easiest walks of life in the 
wilderness and accepted everything as I found 
it; and I always used the easiest methods in 
obtaining food, shelter, and comfort. 

The finest banquet I could sit down to 
means nothing to me. I care nothing for all 
the fine wine and so-called good things to eat 
in the world. I never give them a thought. 

It is the people who are seated around the 
table with their interesting faces that absorb 



THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 199 

my attention. I never know under such con- 
ditions what to eat. I never anticipate the 
'^ delicious" crabmeat, or whatever is served, 
before I eat it. 

There is nothing more pitiful to me than an 
epicure. 

Our whole system is a waste of good time. 
How much time is absolutely necessary to 
satisfy our hunger? I claim we are selfish 
when we waste two or three hours of our time 
at a social meal when we could be accomplish- 
ing so much" for the surrounding world. 

Of course, if a man is not a worker and 
has nothing else to do perhaps the best thing 
in the world is to let him eat himself to death. 

The society drawing room, where women 
clad in beautiful gowns mingle with men suffer- 
ing in starched linen, all of whom are breath- 
ing stale air, is a sad picture as compared with 
the great natural rooms of the forest where 
man lives with as few clothes as possible. 

Surely the reader will acknowledge that the 
fresh air of the forest is more invigorating than 
the air under the plastered ceilings of drawing 
rooms, where the odors of Florida water and 
talcum powder and pungent perfumes almost 
stifle one. 

I realize that past generations have created 



200 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

in the minds of some a demand for things arti- 
ficial, but I feel that, even before this habit 
and taste were formed, way back hundreds of 
years ago there existed an instinct for the 
natural life which even in the people of to-day 
is struggling once again to come into its own. 

I believe that the great outdoor movement, 
which is gaining strength all over the country 
at present, is catering to this instinct and that 
as a result much of the artificial life will be 
wiped out. 

There is no place for style in the woods. There 
was not much style about me during my two 
months' isolation. There is no place for style 
in the natural order of things. I believe that 
style retards life more than men or women 
dream of. 

Modern civilization is a creation of man 
not of God. Nature is God's creation. I do 
not think, and never will believe, that God in- 
tended us to live as we are living in these civi- 
lized times. Our civilization has brought us 
something worse than the barbaric. 

Do not misunderstand me and think I am 
criticising the academic side of things. Far 
from it. I believe every man and woman 
should get every bit of education possible, 
but I do not think this education should be 



THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 201 

obtained at the expense of true living. Better 
to me is a normal life and less education than 
an abnormal life and too much education. 

In a succeeding chapter I will tell you how 
going without clothing in all kinds of weather 
benefited me in the forest. I am convinced 
that the human being needs little or no cloth- 
ing. All I had in the woods was my naked 
skin. I was perfectly comfortable under those 
circumstances. 

So-called custom makes it necessary for a 
man to wear a sweltering hot coat in the pres- 
ence of women even during the hottest days 
in summer. Such a thing is ridiculous. The 
skin needs air just as much as the lungs. 

At the very start of life parents have the 
tendency to overclothe their children, with 
the result that boys and girls are made tender 
in the beginning so that it is necessary to bundle 
them up all their lives. A slip-up in their 
dress, and they are taken sick. 

Had these same children been hardened in 
the beginning they would have grown steadily 
healthier. 

In this civilized life we have altogether too 
much. We have vastly more than we need 
— more than is good for us. 

Recently the great question of the high cost 



202 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

of living has arisen. It seems to me it is not 
the question of the high cost of living, but the 
question of the high standard of living. 

Years ago families did not have electricity 
in their houses, nor telephones, nor steam-heat, 
nor tiled bathrooms. Seldom if ever did they 
go to the theater. 

And nowadays they are wondering why it 
is so hard to get along. People do not stop 
to think that these luxuries are the cause of 
stringency in the family purse. 

Years ago the wife went to market with a 
market basket on her arm. Society considers 
such a thing as common to-day. The grocery 
and provisions man delivers things at your 
door, and you are the one who pays for that 
delivery. 

Meat used to come done up in brown wrap- 
ping paper. Now the butcher does it up in 
waxed paper first, for which also the consumer 
has to pay. All these things are luxuries which 
we could easily get along without. 

We are too dependent upon other people 
to do things for ourselves, though we could 
do them perfectly well if we chose. 

When I was in the woods I could not tele- 
phone down to any market and tell the butcher 
to bring me up some deer-meat. I had to go 



THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 203 

and hunt up my deer for myself. And I had 
to kill it and cut the meat off, before carrying 
it to my fire and cooking it. Some of that 
meat looked pretty black after I got through 
roasting it, but it contained just as much nutri- 
ment, and did me just as much good, as if 
it had been served on a white platter, gar- 
nished with parsley. 

In the mind of the housewife who is about 
to entertain, a dainty-looking table is more to 
be desired than nutritious food which she 
serves to her guests. According to the present 
mode of entertaining things must look "nice" 
even though all hands who partake of the spread 
may die of acute indigestion. 

I ask the reader the next time he goes into 
an electric car to study the different advertis- 
ing signs, which spread from one end of the 
car to the other. With the exception of per- 
haps a bread sign, every one of the other things 
which, according to the advertisements them- 
selves, ''you can't get along without," is pure 
luxury. You don't actually need any of the 
things advertised. 

''You 're not correct unless you wear 
Chokem's Collars," reads one. Who, other 
than the Chokem Collar concern, says you 
are not correct? No one. Yet the public 



204 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

take the bait and Chokem Collars become 
the rage. 

Women wear the most outlandish rigs because 
someone says it is the style. The people of 
to-day are style-crazy. They willingly make 
themselves appear ridiculous if in their own 
minds they know they are wearing something 
that everybody else is wearing. 

To me it seems as if they miss the point. 
I should be tempted to wear what everyone else 
wasn't wearing, and not be classed with the 
human mimickers. 

In the woods, just because a trapper picks up 
a feather and sticks it in his hat you don't 
worry your heart out until you find a feather 
just like it to put in your hat. 

Close to nature such absurdities do not exist. 
A man uses just what he finds, and he generally 
finds all he needs. 

By this I do not mean that women should n't 
have pretty things. I believe they should, and 
feel that such a desire has been instinctive 
way back through the ages. But there is no 
excuse for their going to extremes just because 
someone else does. 

There is another side to this question of 
simple living, and that concerns the regulating 
of the housewife's duties. Personally I enjoy 



THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 205 

the simplest kind of a life. The humble life 
is the true life and the healthy life. 

I do not believe in having a great mansion 
elaborately furnished and decorated, nor in 
entertaining lavishly. This entertaining does 
no good in the world, and life is too short for 
such a waste of time. 

I should like to live in a very simple bunga- 
low or log cabin, far enough away from the 
noise and smell of smoky cities so that I 
could think and work along the lines that I 
enjoy the best. 

If I had a companion I would wish her to 
have all the freedom in the world. I would 
never dictate to a wife of mine, and I should 
not want her to dictate to me. 

If she was not what I thought her to be before 
I married her, and she continued to live with 
me, I would make her come up to my ideal. 
I should not attempt to do this through nag- 
ging, sarcasm, or quarreling, but simply by 
minding my own business and setting her an 
example. I would not interfere with her in 
any way. I believe in absolute freedom of 
thought and action. 

All that we possess in the world is what God 
gave us, and that constitutes our life. Why 
should anyone attempt to dictate to us, or 



206 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

direct our movements? When a person does 
this he is selfish, and is trying to use something 
which does not belong to him. Not being 
satisfied with the life God gave him, he shows 
it by not having respect for the freedom of 
others. 

All I ask for in this life is my freedom 
and my liberty such as I had there in the 
wilderness. 

Just as I have said that children should live 
close to nature, so do I believe the same thing 
as applied to women. No man should expect 
a woman to slave at housework which would 
have the tendency to keep her constantly con- 
fined to the house. 

A woman needs plenty of fresh, outdoor 
air, yet the majority of them are so worn out 
by their housework that when it is done they 
sit down to read or sew, instead of spending 
as much time as possible in the open air. Nine- 
tenths of the nervous trouble among women 
to-day is caused by a lack of fresh air and 
exercise. 

We have but to take our lessons in health 
from the wild animals. They are always out- 
of-doors and they are continually exercising. 
They have no luxuries. 

During my experiment I lived as the animals 



THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 207 

lived in the forest. I was a part of the wilder- 
ness that surrounded me. 

To-day, as a result of that experience, I am 
far healthier than I was when I went into the 
Maine woods. 

I can't say too much in favor of walking. 
Anybody but a cripple can walk, and it is a 
good habit to get. 

To-day people can't set foot out-of-doors 
without riding in a street car or an automobile. 
There are many times when they might walk 
and enjoy needed exercise which spells health. 

For two months I walked continually about 
the forest, and all the time I was doing this I 
was putting myself in splendid condition. I 
had no one to wait on me. I was not a hanger- 
on. A hanger-on in the wilderness would 
starve to death. When I wanted some berries 
I had to go and pick them. I couldn't ask 
anyone to pass me the berries. I was abso- 
lutely dependent upon myself, and this condi- 
tion proved of tremendous benefit to me. 

In our civilized life when a man is "down 
and out," what does he do? He immediately 
hunts up his friends to aid him. He does not 
realize what he could do for himself if he 
would only try. 

The animals of the woods, when they are 



208 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

hungry, do not go to other animals to borrow 
food. They creep away alone, and by their 
own resources locate their food and fight for it. 
Civilization needs to learn this lesson of 
self-dependence more than anything else. The 
people of to-day need to stop leaning on the 
other fellow for what they want. Within them- 
selves, if they only knew it, is a power they do 
not dream of. 



CHAPTER XIV 

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 

When I entered the wilderness on August 
fourth, nineteen hundred and thirteen, I placed 
entire dependence upon my knowledge of the 
woods, which I had gained from practical ex- 
perience. In the preliminary catechising of 
myself I could think of nothing that would 
block me in the undertaking. 

I had never read any books on the primitive 
man or the primitive life. I simply knew 
what I had been forced to do in the past, and 
I felt that such knowledge would carry me 
through, as proved to be the case. 

A knowledge of woodcraft can never be 
gained through the reading of books. While 
certain methods can be described in this 
manner, the reader will never grasp the true 
spirit of the subject unless he has the practical 
experience to go with it. A little of this prac- 
tical experience goes a long way. 

If a man is really interested, his year-by- 
year contact with the woods will aggregate 

209 



210 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

a considerable amount of knowledge. While 
he is in the forest a man is not making a study 
of nature through the medium of type-set 
pages, but he is gradually absorbing the real 
fundamentals through the great, big, open 
book of nature — the one natural textbook, 
written on the mountainside, the trees, the 
surface of the waters, and in the thicket, by 
the greatest author of them all — the Almighty. 

In attempting to give you a little insight 
into the fascination of woodcraft I will begin 
by touching upon the various trails which 
are to be found all over the woods. 
[^ There are many kinds of trails: natural 
game trails, and those made by man. How- 
ever, all trails are very much alike. In every 
instance a trail, whether it be made by man 
or animal, follows through the wilderness, over 
streams, along the line of least resistance. 

When a man builds his camp in a virgin 
country he makes his trail to the spring along 
the easiest way. If an animal had come 
there years before, and started from the site 
of this same camp, he would have made a 
trail to this same spring exactly the same as 
the man made it — simply because it was the 
easiest way to make it. 

The spotted or blazed trail, like the others, 



TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 211 

follows this line of least resistance. The blazed 
trail is not a trampled trail. It is a trail made 
by spots on the trees with an ax. 

Swinging to the right or left as the land may 
go, but always keeping one point of the compass 
in mind, the man in making a blazed trail 
marks a spot or a blaze on a tree with his 
ax. From the last blaze he looks ahead, 
singles out another tree, and when he reaches 
it makes another blaze there. On he goes 
through the forest, making a spot here and 
there in this manner. 

Even the amateur can easily follow a blazed 
trail. When he comes to a spotted tree all 
he has to do is to look ahead to the right or 
left until he sees another blazed tree. Upon 
reaching that he goes through the same per- 
formance. Thus he goes from tree to tree all 
the way along the trail. 

To return to the natural game trails: these 
trails are worn through the process of one 
animal after another drifting along over the 
same ground. They use the same route through 
the forest because that is the easiest way to go. 
The woods are full of these trails. 

Marks in snow| tell the trapper that an 
animal has passed, but his knowledge, gained 
from experience, allows him a more complete 



212 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

understanding, and by it he can interpret the 
disturbances all along the trail. 

By observing the lay of the land the experi- 
enced trapper who comes upon undergrowth 
and ferns understands why the path is zig- 
zagged. 

He is able to tell what kind of an animal is 
ahead of him by the size of the tracks and by 
the distance between the steps. 

By studying the shrubbery the trapper can 
determine what the animal has eaten, and if 
he knows what the various animals feed upon 
it will be easy for him to tell just what sort of 
creature has preceded him, without seeing it 
at all. 

There is always some sign along the trail, 
and the experienced man can never go wrong. 
Marks of antlers on the bark of trees point 
out the direction a deer or moose has taken. 

The man who knows the woods is always at 
home in the forest. He always knows north 
from south without the aid of a compass. 
He is sure of himself in regard to direction, 
knowing that moss always grows on the north 
side of trees. 

The woodsman also knows what the situation 
of the sun means. If he is forced to travel any 
distance on rainy days the moss acts as his 



TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 213 

compass. The moss was the only compass 
I had during my sixty-mile tramp through the 
wilderness to Canada. 

If a man is traveling through the forest a 
number of miles to a certain point, and he is 
acquainted with the woods and wild life, 
he does not always travel in a perfectly straight 
line. He allows himself to drift along the trails 
of least resistance, keeping in his mind all the 
while the point of the compass he is headed 
for. 

For instance, if he strikes a trail that bears 
to the northeast, and his destination is directly 
north, he can follow this trail to the northeast 
for miles, which goes partly in the direction 
he is aiming for. Doing this he is always on 
the lookout for the next trail along the line of 
least resistance bearing straight north or even 
northwest. If it is a northwest trail that turns 
up, he knows, by following it along for some 
distance, that he has brought himself back to 
his course or even crossed it to the westward of 
north. Consequently he knows that north is 
still to the east of him. Of course, under such 
circumstances he watches for trails, as he walks 
along, which lead to the east or north of the 
trail that he is following. 

Thus by zigzagging through the forest on the 



214 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

natural trails of the least resistance he finally 
reaches the point he started for. 

In a country with which a man is fairly well 
acquainted there is no difficulty in finding 
water at any time. 

Even at the time you need water you are 
unconsciously walking along a natural game trail 
that leads to water. It isn't necessary to go 
in a straight course over the tops and under- 
brush and through the tangles to find water. 

Simply follow the natural game trails in the 
forest, from the smaller to the larger ones, 
and such a course will always lead you to water 
or a camp. 

Perhaps the questions may arise: Why do 
these big trails lead you to water? And why 
do the trails get bigger? Because these trails 
always lead to something, and the constant 
frequenting of them by animals makes them 
bigger. They lead the animals to something, 
or there wouldn't be any big trail there. 

Anything that is good for the animal is good 
for the human being. In a word, all a man 
has got to do in the wilderness is to live in 
perfect harmony with his surroundings. He 
has n't got to resist anything. 

It is n't necessary to walk into a stream and 
wade up against the current. BuUd a crude 



TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 215 

craft and float downstream with the current; 
you will get a whole lot more out of it. 

In building a fire always kindle it to the lee 
of your lean-to, so that the smoke of the fire 
won't pour into your camp and smother you. 

I would pick the site of a camp in the open, 
under the shelter of spruce or cedar, or some 
other black-growth timber. This is perfect 
shelter, for all the dew or frost that would fall 
during the night would land on the limbs of 
trees. 

On the spills under the trees it is always 
dry, no matter how damp or frosty it may be 
outside. This black-growth timber protects 
the ground beneath it from frost, fog, and damp- 
ness, which come from the atmosphere. The 
black timber absorbs all this as nourishment for 
itself. This explains why under black-growth 
timber there is never any sign of vegetable 
life — nothing but dry, dead, decayed vegeta- 
tion and spills that have fallen the year before. 

There is not a thing in the forest, dead or 
alive, but what is of some use. Even the 
dead leaves are invaluable. They can be 
used to kindle fires, and also to make a fine top 
covering for a forest bed. 

The trapping season in the woods starts 
early in the fall when fur is getting good and 



216 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

prime. The trappers have what they call 
trapping lines — a territory extending for miles 
through the country. This trapping line sec- 
tion is "baited up" — that is to say, food liked 
by the animals is scattered about through the 
district in order to get the fox, mink, otter, sable, 
bear, muskrat, and beaver coming there. 

Then the setting of the traps begins. The 
trapper does not work according to the eight- 
hour-day schedule. Sometimes he is up and 
away at four o'clock in the morning and con- 
tinues working until after dark at night. 

After the catch the skins are fleshed and 
stretched and dried in camp. Without tanning 
they are sent direct to market. 

Anyone who devotes his whole time to 
trapping, and understands his business, can 
make as much as three thousand dollars a year. 
A five-dollar license at present allows any resi- 
dent of the State of Maine to catch all fur- 
bearing animals in any place in the state dur- 
ing the respective open seasons. 

As to the various modes of trapping, I 
will start with the bear. The most modern 
and up-to-date way to catch a bear is to use a 
steel Newhouse trap. The Newhouse trap 
weighs about twenty pounds, and has two 
heavy steel springs which control two heavy 




o *^ 

o '^ 

O Si 



W 6^ 



TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 217 

steel-toothed jaws. Attached to this is a chain 
about four feet long with a ring on the end. 
This ring is to fit over a piece of timber ten 
feet long and four inches in diameter, which is 
called a clog. 

This clog is used so that when the steel jaws 
close on the bear's leg he will drag it along. As 
long as he can make headway he will keep 
going, but if he finds himself fast he will "leg 
himself," or, in other words, gnaw off his own 
foot and make his escape. If a bear starts the 
trap and finds that he can make progress, he 
will work all kinds of ways to clear himself 
from any tangle he gets into. But you will 
always find him in a Newhouse trap. 

In trapping a bear in this manner bait is 
necessary. Anything in the way of fish, or 
fresh or stale meat, is good, but best of all 
is the carcass of another bear. 

Another way to trap a bear is through the 
use of a deadfall. The deadfall is built of logs. 
First place a bed-log so that it lies about one 
and one-half feet above the ground. Next 
drive four long, heavy sticks into the ground, 
two on each side of the bed-log and about eight 
feet apart. 

In the slots between these sticks another log, 
called the drop-log, is placed upon the bed-log. 



218 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

At one end it is raised up and supported by a 
prop, which is known as a figure four. 

Then this top-log is loaded with four or five 
other logs, these logs fitting into the slots made 
by the extending sticks. Among trappers these 
logs are known as the load. 

The bait for this trap is placed on the back 
of the deadfall, and is protected by brush and 
sticks in such a way that it can only be reached 
from the front of the deadfall. The bait is 
likewise put at such a distance that the bear 
will have to step over the logs before he can 
reach it. 

When he pulls the bait, the trap is sprung 
and the drop-log falls and crushes the animal 
between the logs. 

An older method, and one used by the 
Indian squaws to trap grizzly bears in the 
west, is to dig a pit in the ground and build a 
deadfall of logs and stones above it. When the* 
trap is sprung the bear is buried in the pit 
under the heavy load. 

This kind of a pit and deadfall is similar to 
the one I used to trap my bear during my 
wilderness experiment. If I had had an ax 
I would have built a regular deadfall. As it 
was, I was forced to use what loose material 
I found about me. With this rough material 



TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT £10 

I constructed a combination pit and deadfall 
which caught the bear alive. 

The only difference between my trap and 
the one used by the squaws was that my trap 
did not crush the life out of the animal. 

In a previous chapter I have explained one 
way of catching a partridge. Partridges may 
also be trapped in a snare, just as a rabbit 
is caught. The snare can be made out of many 
different materials that grow in the woods. 
Even grass and roots will make strong snares, 
and the lining bark of the cedar. 

In making a snare make a loop with a slip- 
noose in it. Bend a little bush over the trail, 
and fasten this bush in a notch made on 
another bush. Attach the loop to the bent 
bush, and hang it just a little above the 
trail. 

When a partridge or rabbit touches this 
snare, in attempting to pass through, he brings 
a strain on the bent bush, which is released 
with a swish, catching the quarry by the neck 
and dangling him over the trail. 

It is a cowardly thing to snare a deer, but it 
can easily be done. A man who gets a deer 
in this way, or in a bear trap, is called a ''pot 
hunter. " 

By making a snare out of rawhide, and using 



220 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

a larger tree for a spring, it is just as easy to 
hang a deer in the trail as it is a rabbit. 

The trapping of mink is a different story. 
The trapper goes alongside of a stream and 
digs a hole in the bank. Into this hole he 
forces some stale fish or other bait. Then he 
places his steel trap, which is attached by a 
chain to a hitcher, at the mouth of this hole. 
The trap and hitcher are well covered up with 
dirt and leaves. The mink, in trying to get 
at the bait in the hole, steps on the hidden 
trap and is caught. 

To catch these animals in the lake country, 
set your trap in about two feet of water on a 
flat rock or a natural stepping place, which the 
mink would use in coming from the water. 
The placing of the bait close by entices the 
animal, who, coming by way of your trap, falls 
a victim. 

Beaver castor, the essence of the seven 
barks which the beaver eats, is very pene- 
trating, and a little of this spread in the 
vicinity of the traps will attract the animals 
very quickly. 

Catching the otter is somewhat more difficult. 
If he is going upstream he always goes through 
the biggest swell of water. 

Otters breast themselves against the flow 



TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 221 

of water and push themselves over the falls 
with their hind feet until they reach another 
flow, and so on. 

Their front feet, which they use very little, 
are so small that a trap would slip off one in a 
second. They must be caught by the powerful 
hind legs. 

Place a trap below the flow in about eight 
inches of water, and attach the chain of the 
trap to a hitcher which has been put out in 
deep water. For this particular, hitcher a limb 
is chosen with its branches, which are trimmed 
down to about an inch in length, pointing down- 
ward. Thus the ring of the hitcher can go down 
over these small projections, but it cannot be 
pulled up. 

When the otter starts to push himself over 
the flow he pushes his foot into the trap and 
immediately dives, pulling the ring down the 
stick. Then the sunken hitcher holds him 
under water where he drowns. 

In case the otter is coming downstream the 
trap is set just below the flow. 

Not being in sympathy with the wholesale 
slaughter of animals through our system of 
hunting to-day, I will not dwell at length 
on that particular side of wood life. However, 
I wish to say just a word. Anything that the 



222 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

law allows a hunter to do is accepted by every- 
body to be fair. 

For the mere payment of so much money to 
the state authorities hunters are allowed to 
go into the forest with rifles and rapid-fire 
guns and kill a stipulated number of deer and 
moose. But they can't do this unless they pay 
so much money. 

Such practices are not in accord with nature. 
They are not in harmony with the great out- 
of-door movement, and are of no benefit to 
the people. 

The killing of animals for the mere sport of it 
should be absolutely stopped. Let woodsmen 
and campers kill game only when they are 
forced to do so out of necessity. 

There should never be a law prohibiting the 
killing of animals for use in case of necessity. 

The animal has not got a square deal when 
he is pitting his craft against that of the hunter 
with a gun. The gun should only be used 
when meat or skin is necessary. Under such 
conditions its use is perfectly fair. 

So-called sport as it exists to-day is nothing 
more than the instinct in man to kill inferior 
animals. What pleasure is there in putting a 
bullet through a running deer? Why does a man 
kill a deer? 



TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 223 

After all my life in the forest I have not got a 
single animal head or anything like that in my 
home. I would rather know that the animals 
were roaming free in their natural haunts. 

Instead, I have some photographs of the in- 
habitants of the wilderness which I prize more 
highly than any trophy obtained by trap, snare, 
or rifle. These photographs were taken down 
streams in the darkness of night, under the 
jacklight, in the deep snows in winter, where 
the animals live in yards, and along the trails 
in the open places. 

While I have killed much game for various 
reasons, I have passed hundreds of wild animals 
by when I could easily have slaughtered them. 

Friends with me have said, " Why did n't 
you take a shot at that fellow?" 

I would reply to them by saying, "I would 
rather see a wild animal running than falling." 



CHAPTER XV 

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 

The tremendous interest manifested by the 
people broadcast in this experiment of mine is 
most gratifying to me. This interest has as- 
sumed larger proportions than I dreamed could 
be possible. While I personally realized the 
great benefits to be derived from nature, I 
thought that in the busy rush of life a majority 
of the people would not find time to consider 
the subject. However, there seems to be more 
interest in the outdoor movement than ever 
before, and if my small effort has been of bene- 
fit I am satisfied. 

I believe this great outdoor movement will 
lead to an entirely different line of education. I 
believe that it will open a new book, which can be 
studied outside of plastered walls and away from 
the unnatural light of gas or electricity. It is not 
a book of black-typed information, but the great 
book of nature with its fundamental teachings. 

To me there is not only an education in nature 
but a religion as well. My God is in the wilder- 

224 



THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 225 

ness. The great open book of nature is my 
religion. My church is the church of the forest. 
I am convinced that he who lives close to the 
teachings of nature lives closer to the God of 
creation than those of the civilized life who 
wrangle over the different doctrines handed 
down from one people to another. 

There is little thought attached to these va- 
rious doctrines. The child of a Baptist father 
is a Baptist simply because his father is a Bap- 
tist. That child is a Baptist before he is born. 
Our religions are created for us even before we 
exist, and when we arrive on earth we follow 
the teachings of the particular group of people 
who have made up a part of our family tree. 
Religion of this kind is nothing more than habit. 

The true teachings of God cannot be obtained 
by reading in books the thoughts of other men. 
They may be understood only by living, feeling, 
seeing, and being a part of your surroundings. 

Nature is a religion where all people can meet 
on common ground. The mere fact that differ- 
ences of opinion exist in the various sects and 
creeds shows that something is wrong with the 
different types of religion accepted by different 
types of people. In nature the proximity of the 
Almighty is indisputable — His teachings here 
are within the understanding of all. 



226 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

People of civilization follow many kinds of 
religious trails, but the real trail is the one made 
by God himself, and that trail is nature. Those 
reading this great book and following this trail 
will one day come out at the destination they 
hope and dream about. 

As to an education, there is much in nature 
that cannot be obtained through school and 
college courses. This part of knowledge is, I 
claim, a vital part of man's education. Such a 
knowledge puts the man in such a condition of 
physical health that he can go back to his other 
studies and duties with far greater effect. The 
more he studies nature the more he will continue 
to study her, because in that studying he will 
come to realize that he is truly living — living 
as he was meant to live in the beginning. 

The man who yearly gets farther and farther 
away from nature in his abnormal struggle for 
wealth and luxury is well along the road that 
leads to the destruction of health. Such men 
are tearers down of future generations. 

In the beginning it was my ambition and 
hope to establish beyond the question of a doubt 
that a man could enter the woods and live the 
primitive life successfully. I wanted to demon- 
strate that a man could live without leaning on 
the other fellow, and that within himself there 



THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 227 

were ways to get along without the slightest 
aid save from nature. 

Nature had allowed men to exist before, away 
back when the world was young, and I said to 
myself that in spite of the handicaps of civiliza- 
tion the extra intelligence gained through the 
ages would more than make up for the physical 
deficiency. 

That trip of mine into the wilderness means 
that I was literally born again. The day I came 
forth from the woods was the beginning of a new 
life for me. 

During my life in the world of civilization I 
had never really given the time to think about 
things. I never really stopped to consider all 
the great advantages of nature. I never re- 
viewed in my mind the various experiences I 
had had in previous years in the woods. I 
did not stop to consider the many interesting 
things that I knew about animals, trapping, 
hunting, and woodcraft. 

These two months in the forest I sat time and 
time again in front of my campfire and really 
thought for the first time in my life. It seemed 
as if every experience I ever had came back to 
me in the most minute detail. This made my 
brain worth something to me. In a word, my 
two months in the woods have been a wonderful 



228 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

education. The experiment made me find my- 
self. It gave me perfect health. It demon- 
strated to me that there were thousands of things 
in our present so-called civilized life that are 
unnecessary; in fact foolish, ridiculous, waste- 
ful practices that stand in reality for nothing. 

It established for me the realization that peo- 
ple are slaves to luxury, and that luxury is 
making great inroads on the mind and health. 

My friends know that the notoriety, which 
perhaps has come as a result of this experiment, 
means nothing to me. I have always aspired 
to do my part in the world, if I could but make 
a start. For every man it is a hard thing to 
start. I made up my mind one day that I 
would get such a start. Then the idea of this 
trip came to me just as I have previously de- 
scribed it. 

I am glad that the idea stuck with me, and 
I am glad that I gave the time to think it out. 
The thought that perhaps I was doing some- 
thing was an incentive, although many times 
in the forest I wondered just what the people 
on the outside were saying about the experiment. 

Perhaps the experiment will demonstrate to 
the man who is lost in the woods that all is not 
lost. Perhaps the thought that I existed for 
two months without the slightest aid may help 



THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 229 

a man under such circumstances. I sincerely 
hope so. 

The one thing that stands out more strongly 
than the rest, perhaps, is the health side of the 
question. I mention this about myself just as 
I would tell the story about any man because 
I believe the comparative values to be of vital 
interest. 

On July thirtieth, just before I left for the 
Northern Maine country, I was examined by 
Dr. Dudley Allen Sargent, physical director of 
Harvard University. 

At that time Doctor Sargent made the 
following statement: 

"I have made a thorough physical examina- 
tion of Joseph Knowles of Boston, and from 
the results I am certain that if it is possible 
for any human being to accomplish the experi- 
ment, Knowles can do it. 

''His attempt to live like a primeval man will 
have a scientific value. It will also have a prac- 
tical value, depending in extent on what he 
actually accomplishes in the woods. 

''I believe it is possible for man to revive 
many things which he has lost during the prog- 
ress of civilization. There is no question that 
in our advancement from primeval life we have 
dropped through disuse a great deal of natural 



230 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

knowledge; our artificial life has robbed us of 
some of our greatest powers and has stunted 
others. 

"The ' getting-back-to-nature movement,' 
which I have consistently indorsed, and which 
is now gaining ground everywhere, is turning 
the tide backward. Out-of-door life is to-day 
being demonstrated as the ideal and natural life 
for human beings. 

"The attempt of Knowles to live entirely 
cut off from civilization is a further move in the 
right direction, and it reaches the fundamentals. 
Few men dare attempt such a sweeping change 
of living, and few men are equipped physically 
to accomplish the result. Still fewer men have 
the previous knowledge of the woods which is 
necessary. 

"However, the object lesson of any man's 
success in living independently in the woods for 
months would be of great value to people who 
enter forests. A lost man should be self-sus- 
taining. He should know how. To know that 
it had been done would give him assurance, 
and any actual experience under these circum- 
stances should furnish him with methods. i 

"We will be interested to know how the lack 
of salt will affect Knowles and to find the effect 
of a sudden change of diet from city fare to wild 



THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 231 

things. We want to know how his wild life will 
affect his physical condition, his weight, and his 
measurements. How greatly the cold will affect 
his comfort after he becomes inured is also in- 
teresting to science. 

"When Knowles returns to Boston after his 
two months in the woods I will again make a 
complete examination, and by comparison with 
his condition when he entered, will be able, I 
think, to say what effect his experiment has had. 

''When I examined him he showed consider- 
able fat, which will aid him in resisting the cold. 
He had a remarkable vitality and much reserve 
energy, and was altogether fit for the experiment. 

"I fully believe that, with his previous expe- 
rience to aid him, he should be able to accom- 
plish his experiment." 

On October ninth, the day I arrived in Bos- 
ton, I was again examined by Doctor Sargent; 
and the comparison between the two examina- 
tions was most interesting. 

In commenting on my examination after com- 
ing from the woods Doctor Sargent said: 

"Knowles is in the pink of condition, if ever 
a man was. 

"According to the system employed at Har- 
vard he tested 876 points before going into the 
woods and 954 on coming out. 



232 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

"His test was 150 points better than the 
hardest test taken by the football men. 

"He surpassed every test he took before 
starting on the trip. 

"His total strength test was 974 points. A 
university crew test is 700. 

"With his legs alone he lifted more than a 
thousand pounds. 

"The strength of his lungs increased five 
points on the manometer, while the capacity of 
his lungs increased 45 cubic inches — a remark- 
able increase. 

"Subjected to the action and the stimulus of 
the elements, Mr. Knowles' skin has become 
a perfect skin. It serves him as an overcoat, 
because it is so healthful that its pores close and 
shield him from drafts and sudden chills. 

"His scientific experiment shows what a man 
can do when he is deprived of the luxuries, which 
many people have come to regard as necessities. 

"No deterioration, only splendid increase of 
vigor and vitality, came to him as a result of 
this experiment. Forced to eat roots and bark 
at times, and to get whatever he could eat at 
irregular hours, his digestion is perfect, his health 
superb. 

"Mr. Knowles has lost eleven pounds in 
weight; his height has increased one-tenth of an 



THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 233 

inch; his chest has gained nearly one-half inch; 
his waist-line has decreased two inches. Some 
little weight has left his hips and thighs. His 
calves have enlarged, due of course to his long 
tramps in the woods. 

"As to the lack of salt, it didn't seem to 
ajQfect him in the slightest. 

"Sandow was perfect in strength and devel- 
opment; Knowles is perfect in strength and de- 
velopment, but has probably the staying powers 
of three Sandows." 

The following comparative table, compiled by 
Doctor Sargent, when compared with the meas- 
urements of Sandow, furnishes interesting data: 



Knowles 
July 30 

Weight 191 lbs. 

Height (standing) 69.2 in. 

Girth Head 23.6 in. 

Neck 16. 1 in. 

Chest (normal) 41. i in. 

Chest (full) 44.9 in. 

Ninth rib (normal) 39.4 in. 

Ninth rib (fuU) 42.1 in. 

Waist 37 in. 

Hips 40.2 in. 

Right thigh 23.2 in. 

Left thigh 22.4 in. 

Right calf 15.9 in. 

Left calf 15.6 in. 

Upper right arm 14.4 in. 

Upper left arm 13.8 in. 

Right forearm 11. 8 in. 

Left forearm 1 1 .8 in. 

Strength chest (points) 70 

Capacity limg? (points) 245 cu. in. 



Knowles 
Oct. 9 


Sandow 


180 lbs. 


180 lbs. 


69.3 in. 


67.7 in. 


23.6 in. 


22.8 in. 


1 5 -9 in. 


16.5 in. 


42.5 m. 


44.1 m. 


44.9 m. 


46.9 in. 


38.6 in. 




41.7 in. 




35 in. 


32.7 in. 


39.8 in. 


38 in. 


22 m. 


23.2 m. 


22.2 m. 


22.8 in. 


16.1 in. 


iS-4 in. 


15.9 m. 


15.6 m. 


14 m. 


16.9 in. 


13-4 in. 


16.1 in. 


1 1. 8 in. 


13.4 in. 


1 1. 8 in. 


13 in. 


75 




290 cu. m. 


275 cu. m. 



234 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

As to further thoughts regarding the value of 
the experiment, I think perhaps the opinions of 
other eminent men on the subject would be of 
value. It is better that words of appreciation 
should come from them rather than subject 
myself to telling the kind things they have to 
say about me. 

Among others, Salem D. Charles, President 
of the Protective Fish and Game Association 
of Massachusetts, has said in public: 

"Men have praised the performance of Mr. 
Knowles too much. There is nothing wonder- 
ful about it. Many of us have been there. I 
have, but I confess I never undertook it in a 
state of nudity. As a representative of the 
woodsmen of the state I say again that there 
was nothing wonderful about Knowles' per- 
formance, and that he was the man of men to 
do it. There is no doubt about the battle of 
the deer in the minds of men who know. Deer 
can be killed just as he says. 

"Knowles' work was well done, and he is 
entitled to the praise that he is receiving from 
thousands. 

"There is something in the woods which in- 
stills strength in the chest, in the arm, in the 
intellect. Our boasted parks of civilization 
give no comparison. The parks afford sunshine 



THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 235 

and air, but where is the breath and the aroma 
of the forest? Where is the pine? 

"His story bears the stamp of truth. I have 
heard doubts expressed, but I know it is all as 
simple as can be. Knowles is to be thanked for 
bringing the attention of the people back to the 
woods." 

Dr. Samuel W. McComb, the psychologist, 
was very kind in his expression of appreciation. 
He said: 

"In making a study of Knowles I find him to 
be a simple, honest-minded man. I do not be- 
lieve he has said anything that will not bear the 
closest investigation. 

"He has shown us, among other things, that 
there are many things in life which are not es- 
sential. 

"He has shown us what a strong personality 
can do under extreme pressure. That is a great 
lesson in itself. If he never does another thing 
in life, this one thing will lift him up a notch 
higher than he has been before. 

"It is a most romantic experience, and I am 
delighted with it all. 

"I have just been reading the life of Colum- 
bus, and have found that after he had discovered 
this great land of ours there were many people 
across the sea who did not believe he had dis- 



236 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

covered it. The world is full of skeptics. How- 
ever, I think we may disregard them all. The 
statements of Mr. Knowles are so simple and 
straightforward that they would convince any- 
one who thinks. 

"The man is an incentive to the growing 
youth." 

William C. Adams, of the Protective Fish 
and Game Association of Massachusetts, said: 

"Knowles' experiences have made a wonder- 
ful impression on me. His mental attitude es- 
pecially impressed me. A man can go into the 
forest on the darkest nights and smile at the 
stars, and rest, and nothing shall hurt him. 
The friendly attitude of the woods is what 
Knowles knew." 

James B. Connolly, the author, pointed out 
another interesting thought when he said: 

"The great lesson this experiment teaches 
concerns the physical welfare of the race. There 
is too much striving for refinement. It leads to 
degeneration. Mr. Knowles has taught us how 
to live on nothing. It is better than living on 
too much." 

From the standpoint of a clergyman who loves 
the outdoors, the Rev. Herbert S. Johnson, 
pastor of the Warren Avenue Church, Boston, 
gave his impression as follows: 



THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 237 

" Mr. Knowles has lived a wonderful sermon. 
In secular life and in churches, all matters must 
be presented interestingly. Old fogy ways will 
not do in the woods or in the church, and Mr. 
Knowles has given a sermon so pointed that the 
whole country will apply the lesson. The Al- 
mighty has raised up such men as he to go forth 
into the wilderness. And behold a sermon two 
months long for the people of the United States! 

"Hundreds of thousands of young people, 
who have read his story and wondered, will 
find nature's blessings of health and pure air 
and strong limbs. They have been delighted 
with his stories of bears and blueberries and 
deer and moccasins, and it has set them think- 
ing. 

"I wish those who worship gold as their God 
could understand the underlying spirit of the 
wilderness and its treasures of health, combined 
with economic living. 

"I want all to have good homes and enough 
to live on, but here is a man who has lived alone, 
unassisted in the woods for two months, which 
is more important than gold. Here is a prophet 
of the simple life. 

"Knowles has also appealed to men and 
women. They will go into the woods. It will 
give them time to stop and think, and the more 



238 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

they think the longer the flag will wave. Unless 
they do stop and think I fear that some time 
there will be no flag. 

''Men and women in the wilderness get the 
great sermon that God always teaches of the 
running brooks and the birds that sing." 

I have simply mentioned these few ideas 
about the possible value of the experiment, not 
to emphasize an indorsement of my test, but 
to show how students of such things figure out 
possible benefits from my humble effort. 

I hope that the various stories which are 
interwoven into the fabric of my narrative may 
help, even in a little way, to stimulate the 
minds of men and women in the direction of 
nature. I hope my experiment will yield things 
true and big and broad in the minds of the peo- 
ple, so that they may catch a glimpse of the 
comparison between the natural life and the 
artificial life. 



CHAPTER XVI 

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 

When I speak of the Boy Scout movement I 
do so with enthusiasm. This movement, more 
than anything else to-day, is leading the people 
back to nature. 

Of all human beings the boy is the one who 
should take the burden of this needed education 
upon his shoulders, because the boy of to-day 
will be the man of to-morrow. 

First of all, boys are naturally closer to nature 
than grown-ups. Then they have that unquench- 
able enthusiasm, which, after all, is the biggest 
factor in accomplishing big things. 

There is more or less tendency to-day on the 
part of parents to take responsibility away from 
the boy. They are catering to his every wish, 
and, as a result, are weakening character rather 
than benefiting the child, as they feel they are 
doing. There is an abundance of the so-called 
scientific training, and too little of the practical. 

Years ago, in the days of our grandfathers, 
the boy was very close to nature. He had more 

239 



240 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

responsibilities. He had his chores to do, and 
he had to act more for himself than he does to- 
day. To-day all kinds of luxury surround the 
average boy. Even the sons and daughters of 
the very poor have their clubs, and, having 
them, enjoy more privileges than the boy of 
means of years ago. The boy to-day plays me- 
chanically and does not depend upon his own 
resourcefulness as he used to. He does not have 
to make his own toys. They are bought for 
him instead. 

I never had a toy bought for me in my life. 
Everything I had of this kind in my boyhood 
I had to make myself from materials that cost 
nothing. 

I remember once the delight I took in a bow 
and arrow I made. It would have been impos- 
sible for me to have gone into a shop and with 
money given me by my father to purchase such 
a weapon. My father had to use his money in 
other ways. However, best of all the bow and 
arrow that I made myself was far stronger and 
more practical than any I could have bought. 
And I had the satisfaction of knowing that I 
made it myself. 

There were times when I envied the boys who 
had fine toys and good clothes. I often won- 
dered if they had them why I could not have 



CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 241 

them too. I always had the ambition to catch 
up with those boys, and to have the same things 
that they did. 

I said to myself, "Some day I will have good 
clothes, and then I will be on an equal footing 
with those boys." 

From that day to this it has been one con- 
tinual fight, and I want to tell the boys right 
here that I believe that I am a bigger man be- 
cause of this constant struggle. 

I did not try to catch up with these other boys 
for the sake of just mixing with them. My am- 
bition was to show them that I was as good as 
they were. 

In my position of poverty the only way to 
show them at that time was to fight them, and I 
used to do this. I was a fighter with my hands. 
I could hold my own with any boy in this way. 

My idea was all wrong. I believed that a 
man was not a man unless he could fight with 
his hands. If I fought with a boy and he con- 
quered me, I would meet him again. All this 
was before I used my brains. 

Then I met men who fought with their brains. 
Boys, you all have brains. There is no need of 
fighting with your hands. It is a silly thing to 
fight with fists when a matter can be settled 
with your mental equipment. 



242 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

I listened with great interest to these men 
who settled differences with cool words. They 
appealed to me. I believed in them. 

I said to myself, ''This is another kind of 
fight, and it is bigger and broader. 

These men seemed to like me, and we drifted 
along together. I watched them and saw how 
they lived and how they looked. Then I would 
notice that people admired them. 

I would say again to myself, "What can I do 
to become a man like these men?" 

I knew these men had been educated in the 
schools. I had n't. They were refined, and 
could speak different languages, and I looked 
up to them. Boys, such a thing is one of the 
best things I know of. If there is some particu- 
lar big man, who is loved by the people, and 
who appeals to you as being a big, worth-while 
kind of man, make him your ideal and work 
and fight to become a man like him. 

Don't for a moment think that you cannot do 
this. Your success depends on your grit and 
determination. When you are discouraged, 
fight the harder. A man who always keeps at 
a thing is bound to win out. None of us realize 
what we really can do until we are called upon 
by necessity. 

These men meant more to me than money 



CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 243 

ever could. They possessed something that 
money can never buy — big qualities. 

I have seen much of life in the forest and on 
the sea. I know one thing above all else, and 
that is that a man must be fair to get any- 
where. He must be true to his friends and true 
to himself. 

The golden rule, ''Do unto others as you 
would have them do unto you," is the best 
thing in the world to follow. It can't be beat. 
If every one lived up to it we would have a 
perfect world, such as the Almighty wants us 
to have. 

The Boy Scout oath is the embodiment 
of the Golden Rule. 

Its laws are perfect. "A scout is trust- 
worthy," reads the first law. A man, in order 
to succeed, must above all else be trustworthy. 

Law No. 2 says, "A scout is loyal." Loy- 
alty is one of the greatest words in the Eng- 
lish language, because it goes with friendship. 
A true friend is one of man's greatest posses- 
sions. 

Regarding the third law of the Boy Scouts, 
''A scout is helpful," I want to say that I be- 
lieve this to be a most important law. Help- 
ing another is the truest sign of friendship. 

However, I believe this doing things for 



244 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

others may be overdone. Perhaps I am tread- 
ing on dangerous ground, but I do it honestly. 
I believe in aiding others only when they ac- 
tually need help. If a person is ill he needs 
assistance. If a man or woman is infirm, of- 
fering to assist them in crossing a street, or 
in other ways, is the right thing to do. 

If a boy can relieve his parents of respon- 
sibility it is again a noble thing to do. But 
the world is full of what I call *' hangers-on." 
They live like the bank beaver in the woods on 
what others do for them. They have so much 
done for them that they do not know how to 
do things for themselves, and they become 
valueless. I believe every boy and girl should 
want to do everything that they can for them- 
selves. By not leaning on the other fellow they 
become masters of themselves. Depending 
upon their own resources they can accomplish 
wonderful things. 

I do not want the reader to misunderstand 
me. I believe in helping others, but only where 
it is absolutely necessary. 

Perhaps I can well illustrate this point by 
relating a story, which is told by one of the big- 
gest Salvation Army workers in New England. 
One of the biggest and kindest men of the city 
met him on the street one day and said: 



CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 245 

" Captain, every day I am approached on the 
street by unfortunate men who ask me to 
help them. Sometimes I wonder when I give 
them something if they are deserving, I am 
blessed with money and I want to help these 
men, if they deserve to be helped, but I am 
constantly wondering if, at times, I am not en- 
couraging begging and indolence." 

"Well, I'll tell you," answered the Captain. 
"If I were you I would change my method. 
When a man approaches you on the street and 
asks for something to eat and a night 's lodging, 
give him one of your cards with the address of 
the Salvation Army People's Palace written 
on the back. Tell him it is good for food and a 
bed at our home. If that man comes to us 
I will charge his expenses for the night up to 
you." 

The wealthy man thought this was a fine idea, 
and during the next two months gave away 
twenty-five of his cards to men who approached 
him for aid on the street. 

In all this time he did not receive the slightest 
word from the Salvation Army authorities. 

One day he called up the Captain on the 
telephone. 

"I must owe you quite a bill," he said. 

"Why, no," answered the Captain. "You 



246 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

owe us just twenty-five cents. One man with 
your card has come to us since I met you." 

The rich man was amazed. It showed him 
that out of the twenty-five cards he had given 
away only one had been a truly worthy case. 
All the others had wanted money instead of 
food and a bed. 

However, a boy instinctively knows when he 
should help another, and when his instinct tells 
him to, he should never fail in his duty. The 
boy also knows that courtesy is a great factor 
in the world, and that he should be polite and 
always considerate of others. 

When I was alone in the wilderness I had no 
one to aid me. I did not even have anyone to 
talk to. If I wanted anything I had to go and 
get it for myself. I had to use my own re- 
sources, and, as a result, I am better for it. 

Boys in our modern life, especially in big 
cities, do not have the opportunities of getting 
back to nature as boys did years ago. 

However, through this great movement of 
theirs they come together and talk of out- 
door life, and at every opportunity they go 
into the woods and learn the great lesson of 
nature. Big men, who know, have written 
books on the woods and the animals that live 
within these woods. The Boy Scout is obliged 



CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 247 

to learn these various animals and things 
about nature in order to qualify as a first-class 
scout. 

I am particularly interested in the different 
stages in the movement. There are three 
degrees which the boy must take before he 
becomes a first-class scout. This part of it 
is a splendid feature, inasmuch as the boy just 
starting in to be a scout constantly has the in- 
centive of becoming a bigger and better one. 
I even advocate more degrees, so that a scout 
can always look forward to something bigger. 

The Boy Scouts of America first become 
what they call tenderfoots. Here they make 
a start, and a start is a big thing. 

A boy must serve at least a month to be eli- 
gible to enter the ranks of the second-class 
scouts, and all the while he must learn necessary, 
practical things of life in order to qualify. 
He must know how to aid those who are in- 
jured, how to cook, how to build fires in the 
open, how to use a knife and a hatchet, and 
other practical things that thousands of boys 
do not know to-day. 

Such knowledge makes the boy indepen- 
dent. It gives him an education that will stand 
back of him in after life — it brings him closer 
to mother nature, whom, in the onward march 



248 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

along the roads of civilization, he has run 
away from. It gives him health, and health 
means stronger generations to come. 

In order to become a first-class scout the boy- 
must know how to swim; to earn a certain sum 
of money and deposit it in a bank; to make 
maps; to understand the growing things in the 
woods, and how to live in the open. 

What movement can be greater along educa- 
tional lines? Where does book-learning compare 
with this practical experience in the great out- 
doors? 

Of course, have the book-learning too, but 
divide this learning with the learning from the 
open book of nature. 

I understand that there are over two million 
Boy Scouts in the world to-day. 

I believe it to be the duty of every parent 
to encourage his boys in this work, and I cer- 
tainly approve of any such movement for the 
girls along this line. 

I realize only too well that the average Boy 
Scout will not go into the depths of the woods 
as I did. However, I feel that the average 
American boy of reasonably good health, and 
with a reasonable amount of resourcefulness, 
could accomplish things in the forest that 
he and his parents would never dream of. 



CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 249 

The Boy Scout will go into the forest where 
man has been, and where there is ample op- 
portunity to get close to nature. He will 
learn the different growing things, and the habits 
of the animals that frequent his domain. He 
will learn how to utilize the different materials 
all about him. 

He will come to love the woods, and all fear 
will leave him. He will get to feel as safe and 
comfortable in the forest at night as in his own 
home. 

In the summertime the boy in the woods 
knows he cannot freeze. If he is lost, all he 
has to do is to keep his head. The best place 
to choose a camp if night overtakes him is in 
a thicket. If he feels cold, he knows enough 
to get up and run around. 

The boy in going into the woods should 
know in what direction he is going. With this 
constantly in his mind, he can get his bearings 
by the moss on the north side of the trees. 

It is useless for me to tell the Boy .Scouts how 
to build a fire, without any matches. They 
know already. To the boy just beginning, the 
chapter on woodcraft, by Ernest Thompson 
Seton in the Boy Scouts' Handbook, will explain 
all that very quickly. 

In the winter when the snows are deep, and 



250 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

he is walking on snowshoes and night over- 
takes him, it is a simple thing for him to con- 
struct a cosey camp for the night. I have done 
it hundreds of times and have been perfectly 
comfortable. 

He takes off his snowshoes, shovels a hole 
in the snow with them, and fills this hole with 
boughs. He sticks up a couple of sticks in 
front, places a cross-stick across those, and slants 
boughs covered with bark from the cross-stick 
to the snow in the rear. 

After gathering wood enough to last all 
night, he starts his fire in front of the lean-to, 
to the lee side. He can regulate his comfort 
to suit himself, under these conditions, no 
matter if the temperature is below zero. 

There are no animals in the woods in winter 
that will molest him in any way. The bear is in 
his den. The moose are in their yards on the 
tops of the mountains, and they never leave these 
yards until the snow is gone. The deer are also 
in yards on the mountains and in the swamps. 

The only animals that travel on the light 
snow are the rabbit, fox, wild-cat, mink, fisher, 
and the soft-footed animals. 

Even if there were vicious animals in the 
woods, none would approach close to a camp so 
long as a fire was burning. 



CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 251 

If a boy has n't any food he knows he won't 
starve overnight. In the preceding chapters 
he can find much material on foods and how 
to get them. 

The more experience a boy has in the woods 
the more his instinct will be developed. 

No guide can describe to you how he finds 
water. He simply goes and finds it, that is all. 
He knows instinctively where to go by the 
trails and the lay of the land. 

A boy who lives a great deal in the open will 
see the folly of smoking. I am not a prude 
about such things, but I do want to say that 
nine out of every ten who smoke acquired the 
habit because, when they were young, they 
thought smoking looked well and made them 
men. Smoking does not make a man. Rather 
it shows a weakness for luxury. There is 
nothing in smoking, and in many cases it is 
harmful. A man does not need tobacco, and 
he can be just as contented, and even more so, 
without it than he can with it. 

There is n't a man I know who smokes who, 
way down in his heart, does not wish that he 
had never started the habit. 

I don't even have to mention liquor to a Boy 
Scout, for he well knows its evils. God 's fresh 
air is the greatest stimulant in the world, and 



252 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

the use of artificial stimulants is an abuse of the 
body. 

While I am writing to boys I want to pay a 
tribute to the newsboys of the country. Those 
little men are an inspiration to me. At their 
very young age they are laboring upon their 
own resources, and in the future we are to see 
some great men come from among their ranks. 
These boys, with the responsibilities of life 
upon their shoulders, learn to grasp every op- 
portunity; and the fraternity among them is 
a wonderful thing to see. Some of them aid 
materially in the support of the family. They 
work long and late. With all this work they 
are always on the alert to improve themselves. 

The various newsboy clubs throughout the 
country have accomplished remarkable things, 
and valuable men are being made from their 
memberships. 

Boys, there is one question you should always 
ask yourself: ''Am I making the most of what 
I have?" 

It is impossible to describe the feeling of 
satisfaction that takes possession of one when 
he knows that he has done his very best. The 
boy who tries to do as little in life as he can 
believes he is doing a smart thing, and is having 
an easy time. He is having a hard time instead. 



CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 253 

He does not know the exhilaration of true hap- 
piness — the feehng that makes one glad to be 
alive. 

If every boy and girl could but understand 
this, how much more they would get out of life. 

A boy should never try to reason with his 
conscience, because his conscience in the long 
run is right. Instinctively he knows what his 
duty is, and every time he meets that duty 
he is making himself a bigger man — a man 
whom the world will look up to and respect. 

Boys and girls, the responsibility of the future 
lies upon your shoulders. Study nature at 
every opportunity, for the more you know of 
nature the more you will know of true living. 

The very boys and girls who live to-day can 
make history — they can be the ones who, 
when artificial things have taken possession of 
the world, can turn civilization back to the 
true life. This means a future life of health 
and happiness — a glorious heritage, which will 
be handed down from them. 



CHAPTER XVII 

NATURE AND ART 

When the realization first came upon me 
in the forest that my battle was not to be 
physical but one with my mind I began to 
try to create something to combat it. I knew 
that in order to win this battle I must constantly 
apply my mind to labor, and that in steady 
labor I would not have time to dwell mentally 
on my loneliness. 

Having been an artist in the civilized life 
it was most natural that my mind should turn 
in that direction. I wished that I might have 
had my tubes, brushes, and canvas, for in 
that way I could have occupied my mind for 
hours. But I said to myself, "What is the use 
of wishing for these things when I have not 
got them?" 

Suddenly it occurred to me that color came 
from nature, and the brushes and canvas 
came from the same source. Then the thought 
came to my mind, ''Why not try to get my 
artist materials in the forest? Why was it not 

254 



NATURE AND ART 255 

possible for art to be foraged just the same as 
existence?" 

To begin with, I had everything necessary 
right there in the woods. I knew that paper 
was made of wood pulp. I also knew that 
brushes were made of animal fur. Then again 
there was a chance for color everywhere. 

I grew enthusiastic over this idea and began 
making preparations to make a picture in 
color, using the crude materials there at hand 
in the wilderness. I set to work testing the 
stains and colors of roots, bark, and berries, 
and proved conclusively that I should not lack 
for varied color. 

Then I started experimenting with paper- 
making. By grinding pieces of soft wood against 
a stone under water in a birch-bark dish a 
pulp was produced, of which I made small 
sheets. Draining the water from the pulp I 
spread it evenly on a piece of smooth birch- 
bark and rolled all the water out of it with a 
round stick. I then placed it in the sun to 
dry and, as the moisture was absorbed, the 
crude sheet of paper released itself from the 
bark. 

While I lacked the pressure of heavy rolls 
to harden this paper, I was able to make tests 
on its surface with colors. The pure juice of 



^5Q ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

berries is deep and sticky. By filling this with 
water it becomes transparent and pleasing 
in color, blending perfectly with the more sub- 
dued tones of the bark and roots. 

Next I made some good brushes out of the 
short, stiff hair that grows around the nose of 
the bear. After selecting the best hair I could 
find I tied it together with longer hair, and 
pulled it through the quill of a blue heron 
feather. To secure the hair I plugged the 
quill with hot spruce gum and attached a 
small stick for a handle. I felt confident that 
these brushes would do the trick. 

So thoroughly carried away was I with the 
experiment I was making in art that I neg- 
lected everything else. I even forgot to eat. 
Eventually I was forced through necessity to 
fight for mere existence, and the project had 
to be abandoned. However, I know that I 
could have painted a fair picture in color under 
those circumstances. 

Even after that the longing came to me to 
paint something. The natural colorings that 
surrounded me were mighty tempting. As the 
golden sunset softly blended with the twi- 
light there was always an inspiration and 
tranquillity. 

With all those things around him in the 



NATURE AND ART 257 

forest all a man actually needed was the instinct 
of an artist. 

In many instances to-day art, as it is accepted, 
is the merest veneer of the true thing. Art 
begins with nature, because it is with the 
products of nature that art production is 
made possible. There are some artists who can 
paint pictures of passing interest who do not 
even know of what their canvas is made. 
With perhaps the slight exception of what 
they have read in books, they have little idea 
of the history and process of color-making. 
These artists never made their own colors, or 
canvas, or brushes. All these have had to 
be made for them by somebody else. They ac- 
cept what color is offered them in stores, where 
they also buy their brushes. They go to 
teachers of art, who have learned what they 
know through other teachers of art. In a word, 
they paint by rule — they paint the way they 
were taught to paint. 

The artist goes back to nature and sees 
a moose running in the woods. He knows it is 
a moose because the guide tells him it is. He 
knows the difference between animals also 
because the guide tells him. Perhaps he shoots 
one with a modern high-power rifle. He 
doesn't skin the animal because he doesn't 



258 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

know how, so he stands back and watches 
the guide remove the skin from the carcass. 
He tastes some of the meat. He watches the 
guide flesh and tan the hide. Then he pro- 
ceeds to paint a picture of the scene. The 
guide carries his pack for him and makes up 
his bed in a comfortable camp, as well as cook- 
ing all his meals. 

Perhaps he stays in the woods for a month 
or more, living under the most comfortable 
circumstances. He has observed many things 
with his eyes, but in all that time he has not 
felt the things that the guide has felt, nor does 
the guide tell the artist his feelings, not being 
in the habit of talking much. 

Then the artist goes back to the city to his 
luxurious studio and starts to work putting a 
picture of outdoor work on canvas. He pleases 
people who do not know much about outdoor 
life much the same as a gay-colored chromo 
attracts the eye of a child. And he paints all 
these pictures under the most comfortable 
circumstances. 

Along comes a wealthy man who says, "You 
are a great painter of wild life. Paint me a 
picture of a moose in summertime. " The artist 
has already painted a picture of a moose 
in the fall and winter in the snow. The color 



NATURE AND ART 259 

of a winter moose is decidedly different from 
that of the summer moose. The antlers the 
artist has seen are hard and perfect, but the 
antlers of the summer moose are soft and vel- 
vety, because the blood is circulating from the 
body of the animal up through every part of 
his horns. Summer moose look no more like 
winter moose than a caribou looks like a deer. 

What is the artist going to do? He does n't 
even know what kind of a country the summer 
moose inhabits, or where he is found. The 
summer moose does not live in the same kind 
of a place as the winter moose. He does not 
eat the same food, nor eat in the same way. 
He is of different color, different shape, and 
he acts differently. So the reader will see how 
easy it is for the painter of outdoor life to slip 
up on this sort of thing. 

The true portrayal can never come from the 
brush of an artist who has not lived close to 
nature, and who has not felt what he paints. 
To my mind, this fundamental training is a 
big factor in art. It is something big — some- 
thing apart from the constant swapping of ideas 
from one teacher to another. 

While such an artist may not have the tech- 
nical training of the schooled artist, he has 
the truth of his work; and no painting is ever 



260 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

great if it lacks truth. Being a part of nature 
will fit a man to portray nature truthfully when 
he comes to paint it. 

It does n 't matter what the picture is on the 
surface, nor does it make any difference what 
you paint it on, or what you use for a brush, 
or color. It is the touch. A man who views 
a picture rightly looks below the surface of it. 
He goes down deep into it. 

The painter of truth-pictures is unconscious 
of what brush he uses or what color he employs. 
The only thing in his mind is the touch of life 
that he has seen on the head of some wood 
creature or the reflection of a sunset. They 
are the things that appeal to him as striking, 
and he works on and on until he has obtained 
the effect that is in his mind. He knows 
instinctively when he has found it, and he 
knows that he is right. He has given a soul 
to the painting. It takes a man who knows 
life from practical experience to read the soul 
in another man's picture. A picture without 
a soul means nothing. 

This was one of the reasons why I went into 
the woods in the first place — I hoped in 
a small way to get the people to recognize 
nature in art. 

I began my art in the woods of northern 




TIIF, AUTHOR GREETING HIS MUTIIER AT WILTON, MAINE, AFTER 111', 
HAD COMPLETED HIS EXPERIMENT 



NATURE AND ART 261 

Maine. At various times, while I was guiding 
men from the city through the woods, I would 
draw sketches for them on pieces of fungus. 
They kept telling me I should develop such a 
talent, and this pleased me. 

I drew considerably after that, but always 
hid my stuff. Sometimes people would find 
it and say it was good, and that with a little 
training I would one day be an artist. I knew 
that I lacked technical training, so I thrust my- 
self upon every artist I came in contact with. 
I observed them closely, and nothing escaped 
me. I wondered then if I would ever be able 
to do anything like the work they were doing. 

However, the repeated suggestions of people 
about my developing my talent encouraged 
me some and I stuck to it. One day a maga- 
zine wanted to buy a cover design I had drawn. 
That was the biggest thing I had reached. 
I said to myself, ''Here is a chance for me to 
draw a picture for the public, with my name 
signed to it!" It meant a great deal to me. 

But inside I felt that I was not on equal 
footing with other artists because I hadn't 
had the training of the schools. I did n't 
dream at that time that a man could start out 
with what talent he had and make a success 
on his own resources. I didn't have the 



262 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

money to study, so the only thing for me to 
do was to keep on painting and observing other 
men's work until I might one day be recognized 
as a painter of outdoor life. 

After I received this recognition I immediately 
jumped back to nature in order to convince 
that class of doubters, who are forever tearing 
down when they might be building up, about the 
truth of outdoor painting. I went back to 
nature again and lived. When I came out I 
felt that I knew nature. 

How many times have you heard the criti- 
cism, ''That painting is overcolored"? It is 
impossible to use colors too bright to portray 
the truth of nature. The colors are a part of 
nature itself and belong there. They can be 
toned down with gray, just the same as a 
bright day can be toned down with clouds. 

At certain times of the year the reflections 
of the forest and the sunset on the lakes are 
brighter and cleaner in color than any I have 
ever seen on canvas. The peace and tranquil- 
lity of some of the twilights and afterglows I 
have never seen perfectly reproduced in oil 
or water color. 

Art critics have a tendency to judge pictures 
from their own personal experience of other 
pictures. I believe they think too much of 



NATURE AND ART 263 

the technical and artificial, and ofttimes in 
their desire to criticize they overlook the hidden 
soul of the picture, which by a man who 
knows will be noticed first of all. 

The drawing of the subject is a strong point 
and requires great skill and natural ability. 
The color is a great addition. But the greatest 
thing of all is the soul — the touch of the man 
who paints it. 

The use of the camera in the woods is one 
interesting phase of art. I have used the camera 
in many ways to get negatives of animals in 
their native haunts. In a preceding chapter 
I have spoken of the jacklight method, but 
I have not mentioned how, at various times 
during my career in the woods, I have made 
animals take pictures of themselves. 

In these instances I set my camera on a trail 
and laid a string, attached to the shutter, 
across the trail. The camera had been focused 
on the spot where the oncoming deer or other 
animal would walk against the string. The 
creature wandering along presses the string, 
releasing the shutter, and you have your nega- 
tive. It does n't matter what kind of an ani- 
mal comes along. If it happens to be a man 
you will have his picture just the same. 

In order to get negatives of the smaller 



264 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

animals a different method is used. Bait is 
employed. The camera is set at night, and a 
string is extended from the machine to a tree. 
The string dangles bait just above the ground, 
so that when the coon or other small animal 
comes to get it it has to rise up and pull hard. 
This pull releases a flashlight and the negative 
is made. 

This same simple method is used in making 
animals shoot themselves with a, gun. The 
string is attached to the hair-trigger, and when 
the fox or other animal moves the string the 
gun is discharged. 

I remember one winter when I was at King 
and Bartlett Camps that I set one of these 
guns out on King and Bartlett Lake. The men 
in the camp laughed at me and said I might 
be able to trap foxes in all kinds of ways but 
that it was impossible to make a fox shoot him- 
self. Even while we were talking the sound of 
a gun came to us from the direction of the 
lake. Investigation proved that I had been 
correct, because the dead fox on the ice and the 
discharged gun told their own story. 

A first-class taxidermist is in truth an artist. 
I have done much of this work, having mounted 
heads and full bodies of animals, together with 
hundreds of fish. 



NATURE AND ART 265 

Here again is another thing a man can do in 
the woods without aid or material from the 
outside world. Assuming that I was naked 
and without tools, as I was during my two 
months in the wilderness, and desired to do 
some of this work, I would first catch a fish 
in the manner I have previously described. 
Using the same process that I did with the bear 
and the deer, I would remove the skin with 
sharp rocks. Next I would find a large splinter 
from a broken-down tree, wide enough for a 
panel background. In order to catch all the- 
high lights and make the fish appear natural 
I would shape the splintered wood to an oval, 
by placing it under water and grinding it down 
with a rock. A man can take any piece of wood 
and under water grind it to any shape he wants. 
When this oval background was ready I would 
stick the skin on with the natural glue of the 
fish. In spite of the fact that I had used no 
instruments from the outside world the ob- 
server could not tell the difference between the 
mounted specimen and a trout fresh from the 
water at a distance of ten feet. 

In emphasizing my point about the artist 
who lacks the practical, rough side of forest 
life not being able to give the true touch to 
his pictures, I want to tell a short story about 



266 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

the best-natured man I ever met. Unlike the 
gentlemen of art who come into the woods to 
observe under the most luxurious conditions, 
he was satisfied with anything that happened 
to be on hand. While he had plenty of money 
and paid me well for guiding him, he never 
complained. If he had but little to eat he would 
say the food was good. If it rained he never 
complained. 

One day after one of the hardest tramps I 
had ever taken we arrived at one of my camps 
which I had not seen for over a year. It was 
long after dark and we had no time to gather 
fir boughs for a bed. Inside the camp were two 
bunks, one above the other. No boughs were 
in them, nothing but the rough hard boards. 

''Well, Frank," I said, "which bunk do you 
want?" 

"Any one," he answered in his customary 
manner. 

"You better take the lower one," I said, 
"because if you happen to fall out you won't 
have so far to fall." 

"All right," he said, and we turned in, he 
taking the lower berth and I climbing up to the 
one above. The beds were as hard as rocks. 

Some time later I was awakened by a noise. 
I looked out over my bunk and saw Frank sit- 



NATURE AND ART 267 

ting on the side of the one below with his head 
in his hands. 

"What's the matter, can't you sleep?" I 
asked him. 

Without moving he replied, "Oh, yes. I 
have been asleep, but I just thought I would 
sit up awhile and rest. After I get rested I 
will go back to bed." 

If that man had possessed the artistic sense 
he could have painted a true picture of outdoor 
life. He took everything in the woods as it 
was, and in this way learned to feel the spirit 
of nature. 

Sleeping on planks, skinning one's own game, 
getting one's own meals in the forest are all 
just as much a part of the training of an artist 
painting out-of-door life as are books and 
teachers. Without this rough experience the 
fireside artist has a tendency to paint his pic- 
tures somewhat on the order of this story: 

One night in camp some years ago Andrew 
Douglas and I were discussing good shots and 
lucky days at hunting. I said to Andrew: 

"Andrew, what is the luckiest hunting stunt 
you ever pulled off?" 

"Well," he began, without a smile on his 
face, "it was back in the old days of the muzzle- 
loading gun. One day I started out hunting 



268 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

ducks. I went down the bank of a stream and 
after awhile scared up a flock, which rose from 
the water and lit on the limb of a tree. I 
tried to get into position to make a clean sweep 
of them all, but I could n't seem to do it. So 
I went under the tree, and taking aim fired at 
the center of the limb on which the ducks sat. 

"Of course, as the bullet sped through it 
split the limb, but before the ducks could fly- 
away the split came together again, catching 
everyone of them by the toes. While they 
were fluttering and trying to get away I loaded 
up again and took aim at the butt of the 
limb close to the tree. This shot cut the limb off, 
and as it fell it dropped into the stream. 

"I rushed into the water after it, and finally 
caught it, with every duck still attached. 
I sogged out of the water with about a score of 
fish in the seat of my pants, which had swum 
up the legs of my trowsers. 

"I remember, just as I made an extra high 
step to get a firm footing, one of my suspender- 
buttons snapped off, buzzing away from me 
like a bullet. A rabbit coming down the 
stream to drink got the button right in the eye 
and it killed him. 

"That was my luckiest day in the way of 
hunting. " 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE INSIDE STORY OF THE CANADIAN TRIP 

Just why did I go to Canada instead of emerg- 
ing from the forest on American soil? This 
question has interested hundreds since my re- 
turn to civilization, but until now I have never 
gone into details of the whole story. 

It is not my desire to attack anyone or to 
show bitterness, and in telling the plain facts 
about this trip I shall simply reveal true condi- 
tions as they were. 

I want to go back a little into the history of 
the affair to the time just before I entered the 
woods. At that time, while I was in Boston, 
I applied through friends to the Fish and Game 
Commission of the State of Maine for a permit 
to catch or kill what game I might need in carry- 
ing out my experiment. These friends explained 
that I would pay all fines for the killing of such 
animals when I came from the forest. 

For a time the commissioners ignored the 
application, and, when they did reply, it was to 

269 



270 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

state that it would be impossible to grant my 
request. 

In the meantime I had discovered that Sec- 
tion 17 of the Maine Fish and Game Laws 
made it possible for such a permit to be 
granted — namely, that the commissioners had 
a right to allow game and fish to be obtained 
for scientific purposes at any time. 

On the strength of this, I applied again to 
the commissioners, about ten days later, lay- 
ing stress on that section of the law and also 
mentioning the fact that noted men were in- 
dorsing the experiment. Not until August 
fourth, the day I entered the forest, was a 
decision reached. I did not see the letter an- 
nouncing it until I arrived at Megantic after 
my experiment was over. 

"Your request for permission to kill animals 
and birds in Maine in close season," reads this 
letter, "was considered by this commission at 
a meeting today. 

"While we appreciate the inconvenience that 
you may be put to, nevertheless, in view of the 
fact that your experiences will undoubtedly be 
published, if the desired permit was granted, it 
would certainly put our Board in the position of 
indorsing violations of our Inland Fish and Game 
Laws, which we cannot see our way clear to do." 



INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 271 

No name was signed to that letter, only the 
word ''Chairman" appearing where the name 
of the writer customarily appears. 

However, with the knowledge that I had 
been refused once, as explained on the prev- 
ious page, I went into the woods and tried to 
live within the game laws. This made my task 
doubly hard. Everybody but the commis- 
sioners of my own state were with me. The 
manner in which they had acted before I en- 
tered the forest naturally made me feel that 
they would not hesitate to disturb me after 
I had broken the law. I could n't be disturbed, 
as that would have spoiled everything. 

Among others who met me after I reached 
Canada were four State of Maine game war- 
dens, and they were all fine men. They as- 
sured me that I would have a free passport 
through the state. They got in touch with 
the commissioners at Augusta, who, through 
them, invited me to the Natural History Hall 
in the capitol where a reception was to be 
held in my honor. 

The people of Augusta accorded me a tre- 
mendous reception — one that I shall never 
forget — and when our party arrived at the 
State House hundreds of people had gathered 
for the affair. 



272 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

First of all I called on the Fish and Game 
Commission in the office of the chairman. 
Scarcely had the doors closed when a cold- 
blooded transaction followed. The chairman 
summoned one of his clerks who read off the 
various fines attached to the killing of game out 
of season. Then I was asked what I had killed. 
I gave this information, and the chairman took 
down the various things that I mentioned. 
Then turning to me he said, "It will cost you 
two hundred and five dollars, Mr. Knowles. " 

Members of my party stepped up and assured 
the commissioners that the fines would be 
attended to just as soon as the party arrived 
in Boston, and I was escorted into the Natural 
History Hall where the people were waiting to 
receive me. As I was moving on schedule the 
time was very limited, and presently I left the 
hall in the waiting automobile in order to keep 
an appointment with the mayor and make train 
connections for Portland. 

As I started through a lane of people through 
the street one of the commissioners dashed 
down the steps and announced that the chair- 
man had decided that I must give bonds before 
I left the State House. 

"But that matter will be attended to just as 
soon as we arrive in Boston," protested the 



INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 273 

man who was engineering the party. "We are 
on schedule, and every minute is precious." 

In spite of this the commissioners insisted, 
so I went back to the office where the Attor- 
ney-general was waiting with the chairman. 

"But they are on schedule, Mr. Commis- 
sioner, and they haven't got time," said the 
Attorney-general. 

"We'll make time," declared the chairman 
with every ounce of authority that his office 
allows. 

However, to make a long story short, a 
spirited conference followed, and I was al- 
lowed to depart to catch my train after I had 
affixed my signature to the document that gave 
me free passport through Maine. This also 
contained a clause to the effect that I would 
pay all fines for what game I had killed. 

Afterwards two of the commissioners, for 
whom I have the highest regard, came to me 
and said they were sorry that such a thing 
had happened. They told me they had been 
in favor of granting me a permit in the first place 
but that they had had to give in to the chair- 
man of the Board. 

Such, through the admission of the majority 
of the Board of Fish and Game Commissioners, 
is the condition of the State of Maine to-day. 



274 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

The majority of the Board is controlled by the 
minority. 

I suffered more mentally during my last ten 
days in the forest than at any other time. This 
suffering was not due to the fact that I wanted 
to go out before my time was up, but rather be- 
cause of a fear that I might be molested by 
game wardens before I had livedo my two full 
months in the forest. 

After I had killed my bear I wondered at vari- 
ous times just how the game wardens and the 
fish and game commissioners would act. 
However, after I had got my deer the thought 
was harder to get rid of than it had been 
before. I was not conscience-stricken or any- 
thing like that. I had only killed game through 
sheer necessity. The one paramount thought in 
my mind after getting my deer was that the 
game wardens would come into the woods and 
take me out. Being alone, and having no one 
to talk the matter over with, I turned this thing 
over and over in my mind. I imagined all kinds 
of things. I felt as if I were being hunted. The 
thought got hold of me so that I began to neg- 
lect myself. I camped anywhere and every- 
where. I said to myself, "What is the use of 
building a home only to have the game wardens 
come along and find me as soon as it is finished? " 



INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 275 

During those ten days I lived in a state so 
that I could move any minute. I wandered 
from place to place, always watching for 
men who might be after me. And I saw some 
men during those days, but they did not see 
me. In all I saw four or five. Every strange 
sound I heard startled me. I would think, 
"There they are again," and I would go back 
to my lean-to to see if they had been there. 

The idea that I was hunted brought out all the 
animal in me. I acted just as a deer would 
act. At night I slept in such a way that I 
could not be surprised from the rear. In a 
word, just as the deer does, I faced my back 
tracks. If anyone had approached me I 
would have seen him before he could have 
seen me. 

One afternoon a party of three men passed 
within ten feet of where I was hiding. They 
were talking about me. 

Can the reader imagine how I would have 
felt, after having lived two months in the woods 
as I have lived, to have come forth from the 
forest to meet my friends and have half a 
dozen game wardens step up and place me 
under arrest, and take my skins away from me? 
I said to myself, "I will beat these wardens at 
their own game, if possible." 



276 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

In the wilderness I had no one to ask advice of. 
I had to settle everything for myself. So I be- 
gan to reason that if I went to Canada the 
wardens would not molest me in any way. I 
felt revengeful. I did n't care what the Cana- 
dian officials did to me as long as I escaped the 
Maine authorities. I would have undergone 
anything rather than be taken by game war- 
dens in the woods. 

After my decision to go to Canada, I knew I 
must notify my friends of my intention. The 
night I started for Canada I was a little dubious 
as to the exact date of the month it might be. 
A week before I had lost my calendar stick and 
was carrying the days in my head. I knew 
I wasn't ahead of time, but was not sure 
about being one day late. 

Placing on a stump a roll of birch bark 
on which I had written that I would meet 
my friends on the shore of Lake Megantic, 
Canada, on October fourth, I went back into 
the woods. Following a trail to the left to 
a point about a mile and a half from the camp 
I then swung in, walking straight in through 
the camp yard. There was a light in one of the 
cabins, and as I passed I could hear the boys 
playing cards. Over at one side I saw two 
men going up one of the trails with a lantern, 




GAME WARDENS ESCORTING THE AUTHOR TO ATTEAN CAMPS AFTER 
HIS RETURN TO CIVILIZATION. FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, MR. PEN- 
DELTON, MR. COMBER, MR. DURGIN, MR. WILCOX. 



INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 277 

but they did not see me. I continued on my way 
down to the Spencer Stream, which I forded, 
and then went on a few miles until I had 
crossed the Kibby Stream. 

Then I headed up Spotted Spruce Mountain, 
where I spent the night. I didn't have any 
fire or lean-to. I simply curled up in my bear- 
skin at the foot of a tree and slept as best I 
could. It had begun to rain hard. My mind 
was filled with wardens, and I didn't stop 
for anything to eat that night. I remember 
that I dreamed for the first time. I thought 
that I was talking to someone and in my dream 
I would say to myself, "I have gone and 
talked with someone, and now it is all off." 
Then I would wake up and be mighty glad it 
was not true. 

I was on my way early in the morning. I 
never saw it rain harder. I kept away from the 
logging roads and the worn trails, fearing that 
such places would be watched. I followed the 
natural game trails along the lines of least re- 
sistance. I probably went twenty-five miles 
farther in this way. I didn't take a direct 
course, but swung to the east or north, always 
keeping my destination in mind. The moss 
on the north side of the trees always told me 
where north was. 



278 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

From Spotted Spruce I drifted along down 
on to the slope of Old Snow Mountain, over 
Hurricane Mountain, and farther on to Douglas 
Mountain, where half a mile beyond I came 
to Douglas Pond. Boundary Mountain was 
straight ahead, and I made for it. It was not 
until I had crossed the line that I drew my first 
free breath. They could n't touch me now! 

The rain had n't abated in the slightest, and 
again I tried to sleep with my back against a 
tree. It was impossible to go on, as I could 
not see my hand before my face. I had eaten 
once that day — early in the morning — when 
I had shot a partridge with my bow and arrow. 
Not being able to get a fire in the wet, I had 
eaten it raw. I ate nothing that night. 

The next day was the fourth of October. 
I was not sure of this, believing it might be 
Sunday, the fifth. I covered several miles that 
morning, and when noon time came it stopped 
raining, which was a great relief. 

I still had some distance to travel, and after 
going on for two or three hours I heard the dis- 
tant whistle of a train away off somewhere 
ahead. I followed the direction of the sound, 
and about four o'clock that afternoon I saw 
before me through the trees the tracks of the 
Canadian Pacific Railroad. 



INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 279 

A tram car, with three men aboard, rolled up 
the track. As I came out into the open and saw 
them I rushed back in among the trees so that 
they wouldn't see me. Then I laughed to 
myself when I thought what I had done — I 
had simply jumped back out of habit. My 
time was up in the forest and I did not need to 
fear human beings any more. 

Some distance back in the woods I had 
donned my skins, not knowing exactly whom I 
might meet. 

When the tram had passed I came out of the 
woods and made my way to the railroad tracks. 
There was no one in sight now. I started along 
up the track, wondering how the people would 
receive me. 

Suddenly ahead of me up the track I saw a 
little girl of about fourteen years old. She 
caught sight of me and stopped stock still. 
In spite of what she saw she held her ground 
and watched me approach. I wouldn't have 
blamed her if she had run back just then, be- 
cause I must have been an unusual picture in 
my skins. 

Coming closer I asked her how far it was to 
Megantic. A torrent of French greeted me. 
I knew a little of the language and put the 
question again. She told me Megantic was 



280 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

about seven miles farther along. I tell you 
the sound of her voice sounded good to 
me. She was the first human being I had 
spoken to in two months. Rather than con- 
tinue on her way, she turned about and 
walked down the tracks with me toward 
Megantic. 

Presently we came to a house situated some 
distance back from the railroad. A woman with 
about fifteen youngsters came running out to 
meet the little girl, who had called to them. 
When the youngsters saw me they let out a 
yell and scattered like so many partridges. 
However, before I went on my way they got 
so they approached me timidly, and one or 
two of them even reached out and touched 
me with their little hands. 

Frienie Gerard, for that was the little French 
girl's name, told me the train bound for Me- 
gantic was very nearly due, and I knew if 
I flagged that train I would save myself a whole 
lot. Thanking her I once again started up 
the track. The sun had come out and the 
weather was beautiful. 

Presently I turned the bend and came upon 
a freight engine puffing on a siding. As I drew 
up closer the engineer dropped down from the 
cab and came running up to me. ''You 're 



INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 281 

Mr. Knowles, aren't you?" he asked coming 
forward with outstretched hand. 

I told him that I was. 

"All of Megantic is waiting for you," he con- 
tinued. "Your friends are there, together 
with the game wardens of Maine and Canada, 
and they have planned a big welcome for you." 

In a moment the rest of the train crew had 
come running up, and for a few minutes I held 
a reception in the middle of the track. Just 
as the little French girl had done, they told 
me that a passenger would be along any time 
now, and said they would flag it. 

"Have you got any money to pay your fare 
into Megantic with?" asked the engineer. 

I laughed and told him the banks in the 
woods hadn't been doing business for a long 
time. He took a fifty-cent piece out of his 
pocket and insisted on my borrowing it. I 
accepted the loan and took his name. 

By this time the whistle of the passenger 
sounded up the track. The train was flagged 
and I went into one of the cars where I sank 
into a plush seat. It felt mighty good. It 
was the first sign of luxury I had experienced in 
two months. 

Immediately the car was in an uproar. People 
from the other cars poured into the one I was 



282 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

in and began shaking my hand and asking me 
all kinds of questions. I confess I was a bit 
muddled hearing all those voices and seeing so 
many faces, and to this day I don't remember 
what I said or half what they asked. 

When the train pulled into Megantic I looked 
out of the window and beheld a sea of faces. 
When I came down the steps I thought the 
crowd would tear the skins from my body. 
I had n 't dreamed of such a reception as this. 
I don't know who it was, but somebody hustled 
me down the main street to the Queen's Hotel. 
The streets were choked with humanity, and 
I remember looking up and seeing the hotel 
decorated from bottom to top with British and 
American flags. 

Doctor Gregory of the Canadian Parliament 
was the first to welcome me. In the midst of a 
lot of excitement, in which newspaper men and 
townspeople were trying to get at me, I was 
hurried upstairs to a hotel room. I saw a bed 
over at one side and, stripping off my bear- 
skin, I threw myself upon it just to see how 
it would feel. It was pretty fine. I don't 
know how they got in, but it seemed as if a 
hundred men crowded every inch of that room. 
And everyone began to fire questions at me. 
How far had I walked? — someone wanted to 



INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 283 

know. I told him that my trip across to Canada 
covered about sixty-five miles, and that I had 
done it in two days and two nights. 

Nobody asked me if I wanted anything to 
eat. However, when I collected my thoughts 
I saw that I was smoking a cigarette. I don't 
remember taking it or lighting it. Someone 
just shoved it into my hand. 

One of the party of friends who had been on 
hand to greet me pushed through the crowd to 
the bed, with four big strapping men behind 
him. 

"Joe, these are the game wardens of Maine, 
who have come up to welcome you and escort 
you back through the state," he said. 

I want to mention the names of these men 
because they proved to be splendid friends to me 
on my homeward trip. They were F. J. Durgin, 
chief warden of Somerset County; H. 0. Tem- 
pleton, warden of Franklin County; James Wil- 
cox and L. F. Comber, wardens of Somerset 
County. They assured me that I would not be 
molested on the downward trip, and that they 
considered it an honor to be one of the party! 

"You ought to have something to eat, Mr. 
Knowles," one of them suggested, whereupon a 
a doctor in the room, overhearing the remark, 
rushed forward holding up his hands in horror 



284 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

and said with a quaver in his voice, "This man 
can't eat heartily after the diet he has been 
living on for two months? He must be most 
careful about what he eats." 

"Well, he can have a spoonful of milk, can't 
he?" requested someone. 

The doctor agreed to that. But as soon as 
he had left the room another voice shouted 
above the babel, "Gentlemen — Gentlemen!" 
The talk subsided. "Gentlemen, here is a man 
who has been living in the woods for two months 
eating anything he could lay his hands on. He 
has just reached us after walking sixty-five miles 
through the wilderness without eating a thing 
but a raw partridge since yesterday morning. 
Would n't it be interesting to see what he orders 
for his first meal?" 

Everybody thought it would. 

I looked around for the doctor, but he had n't 
come back. Then I shouted the first thing that 
came into my head: "Fried salt pork, potatoes 
and tea." 

Everybody laughed. 

I think I ordered that combination because 
it was my first recollection of food back in those 
days of poverty years ago. When the order 
arrived I gazed with misgiving at a three-legged 
table which during the last half -hour had tipped 



INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 285 

over no less than a half-dozen times. I saw the 
tray containing the food placed on that table and 
I made a jump to steady it. Then I looked at 
the food. With two bites and one swallow I 
could have cleaned everything up. But I was 
back in civilization and it was necessary to be 
polite, so I nibbled and went on answering 
questions. 

As to my feelings among all those people, I 
was somewhat dazed. I answered them me- 
chanically, my mind traveling with race-horse 
speed. 

I wanted to see the papers and read what 
people had been saying about me. This I did 
later in the evening, after the room had been 
cleared. But even then I had to barricade the 
door with furniture. 

At half-past one the next morning I left 
Megantic en route for Boston by way of the 
wilderness. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE FUTURE 

The ending of my two months' experiment in 
the woods of northern Maine was only the 
beginning of an experiment that will, I hope, 
lead up to something of international impor- 
tance and magnitude. 

I have many plans, some more remote than 
others; but sometimes during my lifetime I 
hope to see them all carried out, for I believe 
that such plans worked out will create a new 
foundation on which the nation may stand. 

Simply because we are a civilized people 
does not mean that the days of wilderness 
colonization are over. 

Within a very few years I hope, with the 
cooperation of the United States government, 
to be able to establish a colony of men and 
women who are interested in this outdoor 
movement, where every lover of nature may 
live as he wants to and was meant to live. 

From the government I hope to obtain 
thousands of acres of wild lands which, if not 

286 



THE FUTURE 287 

utilized, would remain a waste for hundreds 
of years. 

While I have not perfected my plans at this 
early date, I sincerely hope that the project 
may be carried out under the Stars and 
Stripes. 

There are possibilities in the Great Lake 
region on the Michigan and Minnesota shores, 
and if that land is not available the whole 
great Canadian wilds stretch off on the other 
side of the lakes, a part of which might be ob- 
tained from the Canadian government. 

This idea would in no way trespass upon that 
of the Forward-to-the-Land Movement. This 
colony would be something entirely different 
— a colony where the simplest life would be 
followed, where men and women would learn 
to use the things of nature around them and 
nothing else. 

My idea is to have this colony a practical 
school of nature, where young men may go 
for a short time, just as they go to college to 
learn things scientific. There is no College of 
Nature in the world to-day, and the people of 
our times are sadly in need of that branch 
of education. 

In this colony nothing will be commercial- 
ized. Stockbrokers, land grabbers, or timber 



288 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

speculators will not be allowed to live there. 
There will be no grafting or thieving. 

Already many of the most reputable men in 
the country — men who have done big things 
— are interested in this project. The govern- 
ing board of this colony will be made up of such 
men. As unprimitive as it may seem, it 
would be absolutely necessary to have some 
law in such a community; but the laws would 
be so simple that they would not interfere with 
the independence of man. 

It will not be a colony for the immigrant, 
but a settlement for the rich and the poor 
who desire to learn about the great outdoors 
and the animals that live within the forest. 

The killing of wild animals would only be 
allowed in cases of necessity. If a man needed 
filling for snowshoes, hides for moccasins, 
or food, he could kill his game; but only under 
such conditions. No game could be sent out- 
side of the colony. 

The whole scheme would be one of progres- 
siveness, and every man would labor for him- 
self. In time of absolute necessity, humanity 
would play its part. 

I could live among the people and tell them 
what I know, and there would be others who 
would do the same. 



THE FUTURE 289 

People who bore the proper credentials from 
a board of centralization could live in this 
colony a part of the year or the whole 
year. 

With the proper instruction they would build 
their own log cabins in winter, and their lean- 
tos in summer. 

It will be a purely scientific and educational 
movement. 

Where do a majority of the people of to-day 
go in the summertime? 

They go to the crowded summer resorts, 
at the seashore and the mountains. They 
carry the social whirl along with them, and 
when they return after a vacation they are even 
more tired than when they went av»^ay. What 
have they learned? Nothing — because balls, 
whist parties, and other games did not give 
them time. 

In this College of Nature the man rests while 
he labors. The life in the outdoors gives him 
new health, and every day he lives he will find 
new wonders. He will marvel at the compan- 
ionship of the wild animal. 

All the luxuries of life will be left behind. 

There will be no need of the theater. The 
forest itself has many comedies, dramas 
and tragedies. There will be no demand for 



290 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

such amusement. Games will be played, and 
they will differ from whist in stuffy rooms. 

I think under such conditions the bringing 
back of almost extinct blood in horses could 
be worked out. There would be great oppor- 
tunity to raise the Morgan Horse, which the 
United States and Canadian governments are 
trying so hard to get. This horse is known as 
the American Arab, and is the hardiest and 
speediest known. In such a country they 
would thrive. 

I am convinced that such a College of Nature 
would result in a marked change in child 
literature. Through the books which would 
be written the child would come to love the 
woods rather than to fear them. 

It would be my intention, while the life in 
this colony was progressing, to furnish the out- 
side world with reports of the work and the 
methods used. Such material would play its 
part along educational lines. It could be used 
in the regular public-school curriculum with 
powerful effect, and the something that is now 
lacking in our school system would be estab- 
lished. 

It is all very well to dissect a flower in the 
classroom, and to demonstrate the fact that 
the intestines of a clam run through its heart", 




A PORTION OF THE CROWD THAT GREETED JOSEPH KNOWLES ON HIS 
ARRIVAL IN BOSTON, OCTOBER 9, 1913 



THE FUTURE 291 

but such education is useless unless the student 
knows what the smell of earth is like, and unless 
he knows what it is to wade up to his knees in 
the cold mud and dig for clams. 

Fundamental training is the necessary thing 
that is lacking to-day. 

Even the trade school lacks these funda- 
mentals. The boy studying to be a carpenter 
would be a better carpenter if he first lived in the 
woods and understood just how much a tree 
will do for man. In the trade school the boy 
makes something out of what he has. He does 
not think back of that. He does not realize 
that the wood makes fire for him, that the fire 
can be used as tools, that the tree even produces 
food. He would learn a value of woods such as 
he could never learn in the schoolroom, and 
knowing that value he could work more eco- 
nomically and produce better work. 

I never realized until after I came from the 
woods how very little the average person seems 
to know about the forest and the things therein. 
The constant deluge of most ordinary ques- 
tions which I have every day makes me marvel 
at the ignorance that exists concerning this 
vital subject. I have come to believe that the 
average man and woman has no conception 
of the forest life. 



292 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

Coming down from Canada through the 
wilderness of northern Maine there was a news- 
paper man, who had seen much of Hfe, in the 
party. Sailing down the streams or walking 
along the trails, he would go into ecstasies 
whenever a deer appeared in the distance. It 
was the same when ducks rose from under the 
alders or when a bear ran away into the woods 
ahead. 

This man had traveled much. He had met 
the biggest men in the country, and was a man 
of affairs, yet he was like a child there in the for- 
est. He was seeing something he had never seen 
before — something he had only read about. 
. This College of Nature, which I hope to es- 
tablish, will teach man the things he has 
missed in the rush of twentieth-century life. 

As I stated in the very first chapter of this 
book, in carrying out my two months' experi- 
ment in the wilderness I did not do a wonderful 
thing. I repeat that any man of reasonable 
health could have done exactly what I did. 

Men of the woods, who know, do not think 
it so wonderful. Yet there are hundreds who 
are constantly telling me what a wonderful 
thing it was. Together with these, there are 
those who, not understanding wood life, dis- 
believe my stories outright. 



THE FUTURE 293 

For the benefit of this last class I propose, 
in the near future, to make a second experiment 
in the forest like the first. Just as I did on 
August fourth, 19 13, I will enter the forest 
naked and without food or implements of any 
kind to aid me, and will rehearse my experi- 
ment all over again so far as living on my own 
resources is concerned. 

However, on this second trip I will add some- 
thing. In order to convince the people who 
cannot understand at present, I will allow a 
dozen representative men to accompany me and 
watch me live the primitive life. These men 
may enjoy the comforts of camp life and ob- 
serve me constantly. 

Of course if I am to get a deer with my hands, 
as I did the last time, these men must let me 
go and get it undisturbed. A dozen men 
could n't lie around watching me do this. But 
with such freedom of hunting as would be ab- 
solutely necessary, the observers would be 
able to keep strict tabs upon me every day of 
the experiment. 

Such a trip will be conclusive proof. 

I will guarantee on this second experiment 
to get myself in a condition to meet any change 
of climate in spring, summer, fall, and winter. 

If the Maine game and fish commissioners 



294 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 

refuse me a permit a second time to kill what 
game I need for the experiment, I will demon- 
strate the life in Canada, where I shall have 
no trouble in this respect. 

I made up my mind to try this second experi- 
ment even before I reached Boston on my way 
from the wilderness after my first one. It was 
at a banquet at Portland that a man came up, 
and, shaking my hand, said: 

"Mr. Knowles, I want to congratulate you on 
the remarkable thing you have done." It was 
the same thing over again, and I couldn't 
help inwardly smiling at the word ''remarkable." 
"I want you to know," the man continued, 
" that I believe in you, but there are some at this 
banquet to-night who are skeptical." 

"Well, that is their privilege," I answered. 

This phase of it hadn't come to my mind 
before, and the idea of the second trip imme- 
diately occurred to me. 

I decided then that I would make it, in order 
to convince everybody; and I will! 

In the meantime I have not forgotten my 
art. In the rush of many duties this life- 
work of mine is only neglected, but not for- 
gotten. I look forward with new spirit and feel- 
ing to getting to work again in my studio. 

My experiment gave me many new ideas 



THE FUTURE 295 

and much practical knowledge that I never 
possessed before about art. 

In conclusion let me appeal to every man, 
woman, and child to take advantage of the 
wonderful bounty that nature offers. Let them 
study the greatest textbook of all — the open 
book of nature. Let them find health and char- 
acter and happiness among the trees of the 
forest and in the great outdoors. Let them 
understand the wild creatures, who have souls 
like themselves. Let them abandon all things 
artificial and really live. Let them answer 
the call of the natural mother — she has 
blessings untold to bestow. In a word, let 
humanity be born again. 

Wordsworth has said truly: 

" Nature never did betray the heart that loved her." 






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